


The Origins Universe: Rachel Grayson's Story

by TheFlyingGraysons4everFall



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, Aftermath, Alfred Pennyworth Is Actually Developed, Apprentice - Freeform, Batman AU, Batman/Superman Friendship, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Crisis, Genderbent Dick Grayson, Gotham City - Freeform, Minor graphic content, Original Character(s), Origins, Titans, Watchtower - Freeform, fem!robin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlyingGraysons4everFall/pseuds/TheFlyingGraysons4everFall
Summary: It's actually kind of hard to explain. There's...well, there's a lot, and it gets pretty complicated at parts. It's easier just to read the whole thing, to be completely honest.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. Character Summaries

**Author's Note:**

> There's a kind of comfort in anonymity. Like, scientifically it has been proved that deindividuation creates a [sometimes false] sense of security. There is no risk. No one knows me, and I'm free from the judgement of my family and friends. If I fail, it's not real - it's just some nebulous thing that can't affect me. But somehow I'm still scared to put something like this up.
> 
> Someone could easily steal my ideas, my stories that I've poured my heart and soul into. I could realize through the filtered public reaction that this thing that I've spent most of my life working on is actually not nearly as good as I thought it was, and, in fact, is really bad. Even if it is pretty good, then me putting it up somewhere where only a few people see it feels like a disservice to the time and effort I've put in to my work to make it at the level it is.
> 
> I don't think that anything major will happen in posting this. Really, this is kind of an overdramatic monologue that no one will read about how I'm not releasing my universe this way lightly. The amount of my life that I have spent creating this world and its people [to a small extent, obviously] has made it so they are people that I know, and that the world is something I can see.
> 
> Hopefully, it shows in all the right ways, and maybe they can help you like they helped me.

Alfred Pennyworth:

Born in 1920 in England to two lower class parents, his father is a head butler/valet, his mother is head housekeeper. Alfred joins the military at seventeen, keeping in touch with his family. They set him up with a job at Wayne Manor at the end of his tour, which works for him because the war changed him – he feels he can't go home. He arrives for the position of butler at age twenty-two in 1942. A year and a month after he arrives, Martha gives birth to her only son Bruce and Alfred helps the new parents care for him. Luckily, he had experience with younger siblings that helped tremendously. They pay him well and treat him like family, going as far as to make Alfred the baby's godfather when he's one year old. This makes Thomas' friend Mr. Elliot very mad. He settles in to a comfortable life of work and caring for Bruce until 1951 when Martha and Thomas are killed, leaving behind their eight year old son. He raises him as best he can, but Bruce leaves almost as soon as he's eighteen and does not come back until he's twenty five and ready to start his war against the Gotham underbelly in 1968. Alfred helps him in a bid to keep him safer, his love for the boy that's long gone and guilt over Martha and Thomas tying him forever to Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne:

Born in 1943, Bruce has an idyllic childhood, perhaps even a bit spoiled, with his parents and Alfred. They do their best to teach him humility and gratitude for the day he takes over Wayne Enterprises, but make sure he has the best of everything. In 1951, the Wayne's exit Monarch Theatre and are shot dead in front of eight year old Bruce. He then lives with and is cared for by Alfred while he studies anything and everything he can get his hands on to help him better prepare for revenge. When he is eighteen, he leaves the Manor with nothing but the clothing he's wearing to travel the world and further train himself. Bruce spends seven years abroad learning all he can before he finally feels he's ready to begin his crusade. He returns in 1968 to his ancestral home and starts fighting crime (with help from Alfred). He also takes control of Wayne Enterprises, allowing a near endless budget for his vigilantism. At thirty years old, he takes in a young orphan that reminds him of himself, eventually training her to become Robin. Nearly six years later Rachel "dies" and sends him into a tailspin that nearly causes him to hang up the cowl. When he finds out she's alive, he uses every resource he has to try and find her. Once she's back home he does his best to deal with the aftermath, even encouraging and helping her to create the Titans.

Rachel Grayson:

Born in 1965 to two performing trapeze artists in Haly's Circus. She spends her childhood travelling all over the world until the age of eight, when they stop in Gotham City. The night of the show, the Graysons fall due to tampered lines - all part of a message sent by a local thug Tony Zucco for an extortion scheme. Rachel is put in a group home until Bruce Wayne comes to offer her a place to stay. She lives with him and slowly gets used to his constant absence, though it still hurts. Not too long after she moves in, she finds the Batman's cave behind the grandfather clock. Rachel confronts the vigilante, telling him that she wanted to help him fight crime and catch her parents' murderer. After some time and her stubbornness, Bruce agrees to train her. After intense preparation, Robin is introduced and creates the first child hero. They eventually find Zucco and bring him to justice for his crimes. Batman and Robin take down criminals every night for nearly six years. When she's fourteen, she's captured by Slade Wilson and conditioned to become his apprentice. After almost a year (eight months), she escapes and eventually makes it back to Bruce. He and Alfred help her through the aftermath - encouraging her in forming the Titans in 1980. Robin leads the Titans for five years, until she's twenty, but eventually goes her own way to become Nightwing: vigilante of Blüdhaven.


	2. Before the Beginning, or Batman: Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love prequels?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with this entire storyline pretty late in the game, comparatively. That being said, I've been working on it for an annoying amount of time and have little to show for it. As much as I get all warm and fuzzy when I write Bruce and Rachel being all warm and fuzzy, writing him without her as a foil is a bit more difficult. I heavily depend on her character to define his, because in my mind; in my world, she came first. I still haven't fully given up hope, and as proof, the Batman: Solo story has not been sent to the dreaded scrapyard. Instead of shelfing it, I figured I'd give the full picture of this universe and story and post it.

1st Chapter: Where Bruce Ends… [A quick rehash of the origin, add in later years/up until he leaves]

_**There's not much to say about chapter one, honestly. Not only had I heard the complaints about the overuse of the Waynes' death scene from other people, as a long time fan myself I know exactly what they're talking about. As vital as it is to Bruce's character, there are only so many ways to draw, animate, or film two people getting shot. The beginning of this story has given me more trouble than anything else in it, and I think part of it is the fact that I'm not quite sure how I want to introduce this well-worn character. I've started and scrapped, started and scrapped, over and over again, and I never found the right formula. In the very beginning, I started this with Bruce Wayne an established [though early] Batman meeting Clark Kent. Then there was my limp take on the same-old story.** _

Bruce Wayne giggled as his family exited the theatre, thinking back to a funny moment from the movie he and his parents had just finished watching. In his eight year old mind, he couldn't help but imagine his own grand adventures as a hero like Zorro. On either side of him, Thomas and Martha Wayne held on to their son's hands.

In front of the trio, a street with sparse traffic carried the night owls and graveyard shifters to and fro. Quickly crossing, the family was suddenly shifted from the warm lights under the outside of the movie theatre to a dim, dank alley. The street lights didn't seem to permeate the shadows of the small space, but the end could bee seen just a short distance away.

"Thomas, where on earth are we going? Surely Alfred would be happy to pick us up from the theatre."

The older man shook his head gently, a smile visible under his bushy moustache.

"No need to trouble him, honey. It's late, and this shortcut will get us home faster than him driving all the way here."

They were halfway to the end of the alley, and the city lights just beyond, but Bruce still caught his mother's doubtful and worried look down at her son.

All too quickly, the light at the other end was blocked by a hunched figure.

It twitched and jerked as it shuffled closer, becoming barely identifiable as a scruffy, dirty man. He stuck his hand in his ragged coat and tore out a shiny gun.

Bruce had several toys just like it scattered about his room, but there was something sinister in the glint that added to the young boy's sense of trepidition. Beside him on either side, his parents showed such different expressions from their carefree faces just moments ago. Wrinkles and frowns, wide eyes and vise-like grips on his hands.

"Wallet and purse, now." The shadow rasps. His voice is very deep and gravelly.

"Alright, there's no need to get violent here. We can do this peacefully."

Bruce's father fumbles nervously around in his pockets before shakily extracting a black leather wallet, mirroring his wife's actions with her velvet clutch. Neither one let go of their son's hand the entire time, right up until Thomas took his wife's purse and stepped closer to give them to the figure. With the gun, he gestured toward Martha.

"The pearls, too, ya rich bitch."

Nearly everything in the situation thus far had gone over little Bruce's head, but he was dead certain that his mother did _not_ deserve to be called a name like that. If it weren't for the fact that she still held his small hand in her own so tightly, he was sure he would have said something just as mean back.

"There's over a thousand in the wallet, and the purse – "

The gun shifted towards his father, and the gravelly voice became louder and angrier.

"Shut the fuck up and give me the pearls, man!"

He gestured wildly with the pistol, causing his father to tense. Bruce couldn't see the stranger's face, making him even more scared. The faint light continued to focus on the man's gun, and the poor boy finally fully understood what could happen. He wanted to cry, he wanted to run and hide, he wanted to go _home_.

The stranger came closer and in an instant, Martha moved her son from beside her to behind her in an age old maternal move of protection.

"C'mon, ya stuck up broad! Hand over the pearls!"

Bruce whimpered, and his mother backed them both away. Still, the man grabbed for Martha's neck and the expensive necklace hanging on it, breaking the strand and jerking his father into action.

He grabbed the attacker, causing a struggle. In seconds there was the awful sound of a gunshot ringing out, and Thomas Wayne fell to the dirty alley floor.

"Thomas!"

Bruce's mother screamed, an awful scream that echoed in little Wayne's head louder than the shot, before the man turned back toward the pair and raised the gun towards the still shrieking woman. As if in slow motion, he fired, and Martha Wayne's cries stopped as she jerked, falling away from the crying son she had wanted to protect.

It looked as if the man was about to finish the job with Bruce, but the distant sound of sirens had him shoving the gun in his filfthy trench coat, along with his stolen prizes, and bolting past the shell-shocked child in the direction he and his parents had just come from.

He didn't even try to stop the thief as he fell to his knees. His father lay glassy-eyed in front of him, and behind him his mother's hand lay outstretched next to the boy's dress shoes. Sounds were muffled, and tears obscured his vision with their constant stream. He didn't even realize that those sirens really had been for him until the flashing lights lit up his wet eyes and he heard the sound of approaching voices.

Bruce couldn't understand what they were saying, but he tore away from the grabbing hands fearfully. They quickly backed off, and for a few minutes he was left alone to sob over his father. He went to grab the body, to hold it to him, but once more a pair of hands grabbed him. For some reason he didn't fight this time. He let himself be lifted slowly and directed somewhere, numbly stumbling toward their destination.

He was still out of it, but he could tell that he was being put in the back of a police car, and the warm, gentle hands were leaving. In front of him, an officer crouched low. He had a sad expression. His glasses only enhanced his warm brown eyes.

"Are you hurt, kid?"

Bruce just stared. The officer ran a hand through his red hair and blew out a large breath.

"Son, I need you to tell me if you're hurt."

"…no…" the child whispered.

"Okay. Now, we have to go to the station. We're going to ask you some questions that'll help catch the man who did this."

The tears streamed down Bruce's cheeks unrelentingly. "I never s-saw h-his face."

The older man sighed heavily.

"Listen, there's no harm in at least trying. We'll take ya down to the station, and get to the bottom of it."

Bruce nodded despondently, and in a numb blur he was buckled in with the car on the way to the police station. His parents, his own parents, gunned down in some filfthy alley like they were nothing. By one of the very people of Gotham they had been working to help for as long as he could remember. And he just stood there. How could have been so weak? So…helpless?

The kind officer took his hand and walked him into the somewhat intimidating police station, weaving them through the busy policemen and detectives walking about. As his guide walked him through the desks and people, he exchanged a few words with several of the passersby.

Eventually they reached a desk that the officer stopped at, and he sat the small child on a chair that sat next to it while he sat at the one behind it.

"Now, son, I know these questions might be hard to answer, but it's really important that you do, and as best you can. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Bruce responded quietly.

"All right. Now, what can you remember about the man? Was he tall? Short?"

"Um…Tall?"

It was clear that he wasn't too pleased with the answer, but concern was the major emotion he displayed as he continued.

"Alright. How about what he was wearing?"

Bruce's large, soft grey eyes flicked over the large area crammed with desks and intimidating figures rushing around as he thought hard.

"He had a really holey coat. He was dirty."

"Okay. Okay, uh, facial features?"

"I…I couldn't see h-his face." He sobbed.

The redheaded officer placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and a sympathetic expression was shot his way, but he continued.

"C'mon, kid. _Think_. I know it's hard, and I promise, this isn't for nothing. Anything you can remember will help us catch him."

Bruce gave a choked breath. "I…I _can't_. I can't remember; I didn't _see_!"

The child broke shamelessly, and with wretched sob, he grew more and more cold inside.

The cop gave him his space, mentioning in a very choked voice that they had called Alfred and that the older man would be coming to pick him up. Eventually, a hand was laid solemnly on his shoulder as a deep, rich, British accented voice apologized and shushed the still crying boy.

As the pair walked back out of the precinct, Bruce heard the careless whispers between the policemen. They made no attempts to keep him from hearing, anyway.

 _"Would you look at that. Here comes the kid's fuckin'_ butler _to pick him up."_

_"Like this spoiled little shit's got anything to cry about. I barely make enough to keep a roof over my family's head, and here he is, eight years old and a goddamn millionaire!"_

And yet, the officer that had been nice to him earlier stepped up, shooting his fellow officers a harsh glare. With a quick glance in the child's direction, he reprimanded the men in a low voice.

"This kid just lost his entire family in one night. Money's not going to fix that. Keep your opinions to yourselves."

Once he was done, he turned toward a sniffling Bruce with the kindest eyes behind his thick glasses.

"Don't listen to them, Bruce. I'm going to work the case, and with your help, that man can be brought to justice. Never give up hope."

Simply nodding, the boy watched as the man stood.

"Gordon, get your ass back to your desk, you've got a call!"

He mumbled grumpily before turning and heading back into the fray. Alfred grabbed his hand, gently leading him away from Gordon the nice officer and the snide comments. The older man was right, he had to hope that the mugger would be caught.

 _…But he never was_.

* * *

It had been five years since justice _hadn't_ been served, and that time had served to make everything bitter in the youngest (now only) Wayne's life. There were nights that he woke up on the verge of screaming, or days where all he could think about was finding _that_ man and beating until his fists were covered in the murderer's blood.

Alfred tried to help him, and he loved the older man for it, but the black pit inside only grew.

He became hyper-focused on revenge, and how he was going to get it. The thirteen year old focused on his studies and began boxing classes. But he knew it wasn't enough. Not if the person he was fighting had a gun.

_**Next I had:** _

Batman glared at the man in front of him, tensed and ready to fight. Eerie light green eyes stared coldly and calmly back while a derisive smirk played on thin lips. He exuded a lethal air despite his obvious age and relaxed posture, as if killing Bruce was only a flick of the wrist away. Darkly clad, masked men surrounded both him and the intruder, wickedly sharp weapons out and ready for the slightest hint from their leader.

"As much as I relish pleasantries, I'm afraid we will have to forego them.

It was a near impossible thing to do, to catch the Big Bad Bat of Gotham off his guard, and yet the man in front of him had done it with such a blasé tone that it seemed the most normal proposition in the world.

"What?"

_"I said that we called Alfred, son. He's on his way to get you. But before you go home, I need you to answer some questions. Can you do that?"_

_Bruce sniffled and looked down at his hands, covered in dry, crusty blood. Martha and Thomas'. Mom and dad's._

_"I…I guess. That'll help find him, right?"_

"Yes."

So simple, as if Bruce's solid ground hadn't just been pulled out from under him to leave him floating in shock. Of course, he made sure his face was as even and tranquil as when the assassin had walked into the half-destroyed cave.

_**I had this in medias res idea a while ago, where Ra's al Ghul showed up at the end after the chapter Knightfall, in which Bane has destroyed the Cave. I scrapped it in the end. It was too clunky, and I came to a point where I just could** _ **not _figure out how to continue it. I started this at least three years ago, and to this day the Notes document [Microsoft Word, for clarity] only has twenty-four pages compared to seventy-six in Origins. The story itself currently only has:_**

Young Bruce Wayne [waking up way too cliché?]

_**To be honest, it's kind of depressing. There is actually relevant stuff buried in the story, stuff that strengthens and reinforces the world. It also develops him further - he exists outside of and before Rachel, with his own journey.** _

* * *

2nd Chapter: …And Batman Begins [Wayne's return, _maybe_ some of his training away, his start of the Batcave, gadgets, etc.]

3rd Chapter: A Night in the Life [Bruce must juggle hosting a gala & his vigilante persona stopping crime]

4th Chapter: Strange Bedfellows [Batman takes a backseat as Bruce Wayne must get to the bottom of corruption and back room dealing either within his company or in GothCorp, also involving Gotham politicians]

5th Chapter: Midnight Watch [Batman works a stalker case where the girl is killed in the end]

6th Chapter: Fear Itself [Batman faces Scarecrow, introduction of Arkham]

7th Chapter: Mad as a Hatter [Jervis' story]

8th Chapter: Leaves of Three [Poison Ivy]

9th Chapter: Cold, Cold Heart [Mr. Freeze steals from a rival company, everyone thinks Wayne set it up, so Bats has to find the culprit fast, then discovers the reason why]

10th Chapter: Riddle Me This [E. Nigma terrorizes Gotham, Batman must stop him without him knowing]

11th Chapter: The Man, The Myth [Maximus Zeus is up to no good, both Bruce and Batman deal with him]

12th Chapter: The Man Who Laughs [There's a new clown in town]

13th Chapter: Birds of a Feather [The Penguin]

14th Chapter: Hour Upon the Stage [Clayface, Basil Karlo]

_**We fall into a black hole in this section, as I have basic visions for where the story might go but lack the motivation to refine it or add to it. It flowed well enough in my head, where I had all the information and made it up as I plotted it out. This will be the only story with this bare bones structure, trust me on that. There will be a lot more detail and thought.** _

_**Sorry, Bruce old boy.** _

_**Here are just the general strokes:** _

The Assistant District Attorney raised his brows at Gordon, clearly suspicious.

"So you just… _magically_ got a taped confession that has no record of the interrogator, and you think that same magic is going to make it admissible in court? You've been on the force long enough to know that the law doesn't just do whatever you want it to when you want it to."

The older man sighed. "I know, Dent. Can you just do me the favor of trying?"

Harvey rubbed his mouth for several seconds and took a deep breath.

"…I'll see what I can do. That is _not_ a guarantee, Jim."

**_ *Note: this is later, different scene and point of view* _ **

Using his knowledge of ventriloquism, Batman threw his voice to hide his position.

"I thought I was clear, Lieutenant."

The two other men on the rooftop looked around in complete confusion.

"Show yourself! I don't know about Gordon, but _I_ for one, am done with your ridiculous games."

The vigilante narrowed his eyes at the feisty new A.D.A. and projected his voice to the opposite side of the roof.

"Not tonight, Mr. Dent."

Bruce could make out the gleam of Harvey's eyes wildly roving the small area.

"Listen here, you lunatic – "

Jim made a motion in the dim light, looking for the source of his voice more calmly.

"Alright, no face-to-face chats tonight. You still need to give me something to work with. Trust can't be built on faceless voices."

Batman nearly smirked. That was the easiest step.

"There is a file waiting for you on your desk, Lieutenant. Feel free to fax a copy to Assistant District Attorney Dent."

He quickly slipped away from his dark corner and vaulted over the ledge, using his cape to slow his descent to the next roof. He had faith that Gordon would do the right thing with the evidence he'd gathered, but the prosecutor was unknown. All the newspaper articles in the world wouldn't tell him what he really needed to know: could Harvey Dent be trusted?

As he raced across the rooftops, he wondered if the lawyer liked Italian.

_Looks like it's time for Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent to officially meet._

_***This would be the Joker chapter, something that I thought would have come easily to me*** _

"My, that was fun! Kind of messy though," the madman said as if he was talking about a game.

Batman took in the clownish villain and his blood-drenched purple suit as his stomach clenched in disgust – but more than that. A natural, evolutionary reaction to _utter insanity_. The hero quickly threw several bat-shaped shuriken at him while he just laughed and laughed.

_One big joke._

_**So we fly through a bulk of the story in a bad way, and things get a bit more filled out before thinning again :/** _ **_…_ **

* * *

15th Chapter: World's Finest [Batman/Superman team-up]

_**I really appreciate the brotherhood between Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne, and this chapter was actually the original 1.0 of Batman: Solo. It was going to be a short story about the first Superman/Batman team up, which would take care of the whole origin story issue because it would be after Bruce became Batman and made an impression on the Gotham underbelly. I haven't edited this bit much since that amoeba stage, and it turns out I'm terrible at developing a strong bond between two of my favorite heroes.** _

Bruce Wayne was said to have it all. Flashy cars, expensive suits, the biggest mansion in the city, and a constant stream of top models and sultry actresses in and out the front door and right on to the front page of every gossip magazine in the tri-state area. And yet, should any of those who believed that actually take a moment to look into his steely slate eyes, they would have found stirrings of sorrow and rage never fully buried beneath his suave exterior.

But that was just the way Mr. Wayne preferred it. No one poking their nose in his business, no one looking any deeper than what he showed them. Already the upper crust that made up his "social circle" were catching wind of the giant bat creature terrorizing the nights, though that was to be expected after a year of managing to keep it quiet enough. The only well-to-do that had discovered his existence before had been the criminals and unjust, and were now either awaiting trial or attempting to pay their way out of prison.

No matter what the public was muttering about Gotham's new vigilante, almost all of them had to concede he was getting things done. Much more so than the despicably corrupt GCPD; rotten to the core and back. That was next on the billionaire's list. Still, it was nigh on surreal to stand in a group dressed in the best get-up money could buy sipping on a champagne that had been flown in from Venice earlier that day and listening to these pompous morons declare this creature of the dark a menace to their once great city.

They hadn't experienced Gotham like he had – hadn't felt its cruelty firsthand – and probably never would. A tinkling laugh to his left brought him back to his current situation and he made sure his ever present smirk was filled with just the right amount of smugness that fit in with the rest in the grand ballroom.

"Do tell Bruce old boy, have you heard anything about this nasty gremlin they say is stalking the city?"

He only raised a brow. "I don't think so. I'm not much into news these days."

The woman hanging on his arm only smiled when he glanced at her, apparently another one of the "not much for conversation" types he was seeing so much of recently. Around them the gala appeared to be a rousing success. Only the most elite were in attendance, sure to draw out the elaborate robbers that had held the media's attention for the past week. Their heists were leaving half the high-end banks in Gotham without a penny. Seeing as though there was no way to rent a bank for one night he hoped this was good enough to deter them from their usual setting.

That eagerness may have also stemmed from the inescapable feeling of boredom and frustration that came with throwing these bashes. Yes they were almost always for a good cause, but even that couldn't dampen the overall presence of entitlement that pervaded the heavily perfumed air of these galas.

The billionaire was drawn back into the conversation when one of the older, more morally questionable members of the small group brought up the very heists that were occupying Bruce's mind.

"I hear that they're ruthless, but Lord knows that at least they stay away from these sort of things."

The girl on his arm (Mindy? Mandy? He couldn't remember) studied her flawless nails in boredom.

"Who cares about those silly robbers? No doubt they're old news by now. Let's move on to something else."

Bruce came to the conclusion that this particular circle was no longer of any use in his investigation and extricated himself to find one that would. He hated this whole process, but if he wanted to get the job done, then all he had to do was wait until they appeared.

He just hoped they showed soon.

"Someone who dresses as a bat clearly has mental problems."

* * *

Bruce was not a happy camper the next morning. The thieves had decided not to take the lure, and instead he was forced to read the bold headline that they had robbed yet another prestigious bank, this time in Metropolis, with his regular morning coffee.

"Dammit." He growled as he scowled at the newspaper in front of him.

Alfred sent him an arch look but remained silent. The billionaire at least had the decency to look away from the stare and clear his throat. He buried himself back in the paper, noting that the story of the giant bat roaming the streets at night had been moved and minimized, something he was honestly thankful for, while the story of the recently established hero of Metropolis got a much bigger piece. He had been keeping tabs on the supposed alien from a dead planet, and was glad that the big blue boy scout had kept to his own little corner. As far as he could tell it was going to take a while before he would have a proper defense against this multi-faceted stranger.

From his limited research he hadn't found any weaknesses. _Yet_.

The city itself wasn't that bad, and Bruce had visited several times with no real complaints beside the internal unease with just how… _clean_ it was.

He didn't usually concern himself with affairs outside of Gotham, but in with the thieves having moved on he wondered if they were worth venturing outside his comfort zone. He still had much work to do within the city without meddling in other places' affairs. Still, they had started in his city, and he figured they deserved a good dose of Batman-style justice for it.

* * *

Only the biggest Gotham gossip managed to land in the Daily Planet, meaning the famous Bruce Wayne had a permanent spot in that column. Personally, Clark Kent had never really paid much attention to the egocentric tycoon, but when he walked into the office one morning it seemed an unavoidable topic.

The first whispers were heard as soon as he'd stepped off the elevator, with Mrs. Bernard, the receptionist, and Cynthia, one of the gossip journalists.

"I hear he's arriving today!"

The hushed voice clearly belonged to Cynthia, the younger of the two women. Her marked excitement gave him pause, and he stopped short of the corner which led straight to the glass doors behind Mrs. Bernard desk.

"Oh now, he may have a face for the angels but he's surely got the personality of a pig."

Clark couldn't tell if he hoped they _were_ talking about him or if he hoped they _weren't_. He doubted his involvement in the subject since he arrived at the office every day, and had been for almost two years. This doubt was confirmed when Cynthia replied to the remark.

"Well I'd take it for a man like Bruce Wayne. Sure he's not really into commitment right now but what can I say? I like 'em dangerous."

He barely kept from a chuckle at Cynthia's words, or how far from the truth they were. As he recalled, she had been steadily dating her boyfriend for a year – a man who worked just a building over in a suicide prevention hotline office.

"'Not into commitment' my rear end. He'd rather love 'em and leave 'em than use his billions of dollars to actually do some _good_. Mr. Wayne's father, rest his soul, now that was a great man."

Their conversation halted when he finally turned the corner and began walking toward them. He gave each a smile and a nod, which they returned.

On his way to his cubicle the subject was the only thing his super-hearing picked up in the numerous conversations that buzzed around the office.

He made his way to his little space, conveniently located just diagonal from one Lois Lane: the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. If there was ever something to get him out of bed in the morning, it was the utter fiery passion and determination of his fellow reporter and secret crush.

And lo and behold, there she was in all her iron-willed glory with eyes that sparkled and an assured smile that seemed to be a trademark of hers. She was animatedly discussing something with Perry, the editor-in-chief. The secret superhero had just made out the term Wayne when Perry suddenly nodded with an exasperated expression and headed back for his personal office. When Lois turned back towards her own desk she spotted his slouched form dressed in a rumpled suit with glasses askew and the sparkle turned into a mischievous shine that Clark both admired and feared.

"Smallville, just the man I wanted to see."

He perked up at her words. "Really?"

"Yeah, how about a little favor?"

The things people do for love.

* * *

Here sat Clark Kent, part-time reporter, full-time Superman, fearing for the safety of his nearly indestructible body as Lois drove like a maniac to the air field where suave billionaire Bruce Wayne was landing at that moment.

Apparently the strong-willed journalist had only requested his assistance/presence because the guy was "an Alpha Male, and who better to help get questions answered than a big guy like you?"

Due to Miss Lane's interpretation of driving, they managed to get there before it got too crowded, but as she parked he swore he saw his watch go back one whole minute. They made their way toward the sleek plane, where the other papers' reporters wore hungry looks. Apparently a story on the prodigal son of Gotham was enough to sell twice the papers, and as soon as he stepped off the sleek jet Clark understood why.

The guy was all money and charisma. He simply oozed the confidence found in the upper class; the kind of smugness that came with the silver spoon the upper crust were born with. Clark supposed that girls must find that attractive, as even Lois was fanning herself with her notepad.

The reporter gritted his teeth at the sight of it, but kept his cool as Mr. Wayne approached. He was cool and business-like until he spotted Lois, at which point he upped the wattage on his smile and winked. Still, it seemed as though he wasn't giving any statements. His stride was long as he quickly made his way toward the awaiting limo.

Needless to say, Lois was right on his tail, and she had poor Clark by the tie to make sure he came along for the ride. The Kryptonian sighed.

* * *

As hard as it was to believe, Bruce did _not_ revel in the sight of the numerous journalists lined up outside his jet. In fact, even though it had become an inevitability of his life and he used it to his advantage, there were many, _many_ moments that he absolutely despised his status. Still, he grinned and bore the flashes and clamor of voices, making sure to send a wink toward a particularly lovely reporter. He even felt some genuine humor when he saw her over exaggeratedly fan herself, but didn't slow down until he reached his limousine.

Unfortunately for him, that spunky babe of a reporter decided that she wasn't giving up yet. He would have admired her tenacity if it weren't directed at _him_. Not to mention she'd brought along a rather large man in a rumpled suit that put the phrase _if looks could kill_ to the test. The glare that he sported made Bruce wonder if flames would suddenly shoot from his eyes.

"Oh, Mr. Wayne! Just a few questions."

"Really, Miss…"

"Lane. Lois Lane."

She stuck out her hand, and he had to give her points on her firm shake. He plastered on the most PR smile he could while reaching for the door handle with his free hand.

"Miss Lane, I'm dangerously close to being late for a very important meeting. Perhaps if this was another time – "

The reporter grinned like a predator that had its sights on a big hunk of meat.

"Perfect! Tomorrow at one sound alright?"

His brows drew together as he looked back to the second reporter, but the man seemed ready to break the pencil currently clutched in his hand, so the billionaire figured that perhaps speaking to _him_ about the forceful woman wouldn't do much good.

"Despite what the tabloids tend to say about me, I do actually have a semblance of a work ethic. This trip to Metropolis is strictly professional. Not for pleasure and certainly not for public relations. That'll have to be another visit. I'm very sorry, Miss Lane, but I have to get going."

Bruce easily withdrew his hand from her sturdy grip.

"Is it true that Lex Corp and Wayne Industries are working on a project? Could this be a merger in the works?"

The billionaire knew this trap, and knew there was no way out of it. If he refused the interview, then she was free to use her own conjecture. Usually he didn't mind that much, but he certainly didn't want something as outrageous as a _merger_ between Wayne Industries and Lex Corp to worry his people.

Deciding to play up the flirty bachelor persona in hopes it would offend her womanly pride, he sent her his most dazzling smile. His voice was much lower pitched as he opened his door.

"Why not come by my hotel? They have a great bar. I'll see you at one, Lois."

Another smoldering look later, he climbed in and waited until the limo had pulled away to slump his shoulders slightly forward and sigh.

* * *

As Superman floated, removed from the fight, he spoke.

"I don't want to get in your way – "

"Then don't." The Dark Knight replied curtly.

Batman's scowl intensified. "If I needed help, I would've asked."

Clark raised a dark brow. "I get the feeling you wouldn't."

"Ya know, despite this gruff exterior of yours, you really are just a bleeding heart."

The ensuing glare Clark received was enough to silence him, though the self-assured smile remained plastered to his lips.

**_To all the other DC fans, I'm sorry I can't write a good friendship between the World's Finest for shit. To build something is a lot harder than working with something that's already there, duh, and unfortunately I'm not a good builder. I've been working on it, but I haven't gotten very far._ **

* * *

16th Chapter: Pennyworth [A look into Alfred's point of view, Bruce's time away and current vigilantism]

_**This chapter is pretty important to me, in no small amount because of the fact that Alfred seems woefully underdeveloped these days. The Arkham Knight video game is not held as a good addition to the series, and that's the last time I can remember him playing a larger role in recent history. The cartoons? The more recent DC cartoon,** _ **Young Justice** _**, has him in it for all of ten seconds with one line. The Lego Batman movie? A comedy meant to make fun of the tropes and clichés of the characters? The one exception I can think of is the Zach Snyder Batman movies, but we don't talk about them. My point is that Alfred is a very important character, and the depth of his bond with Bruce could be shown in a prequel story which helps readers understand why he would stay beside him even when he's training a child to go out onto the streets with him.** _

_**He is a character with layers and motivations, a real, solid person that has influence in the world; Rachel's world. This chapter has more to it than most, but in spite of the detail I added to Alfred it still remains unworked on.** _

Alfred sighed as he stared into his nightly cup of tea, his mind going to what it usually did: Master Bruce. His vigilantism; the villains he faced up against. If the old man was being honest with himself, something he allowed rarely in the Waynes' case, he would admit that he should have seen this life coming long before his employer came to him with his plans.

He had seen the change in the boy the minute they'd come back to the Manor. The poor child had been sobbing through the night, though he quieted some in the car. Tears had continued to pour down his pale cheeks, but he only offered the occasional sniff.

Alfred Pennyworth remembered the day his young charge was born with such fondness he on occasion found himself misty-eyed when he dwelled on it. Both Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne had looked exhausted, but the smiles on their faces when they introduced the newly arrived addition to their small family was enough to warm the butler's heart through all the cold times that came too soon after.

The young master's cherubic cheeks were rosy as he giggled and reached for the older man. Martha offered her son to him with a loving smile, though tired around the edges.

"We named him Bruce."

It had been quite a long time since he'd held something so precious; a dusting of inky black hair tickled his palm while tiny, seeking fingers tangled in his moustache.

"He likes you," Thomas chuckled.

Alfred dipped his head to save his facial hair and meet the soft gray eyes of Bruce Wayne.

"Well, the feeling is most certainly mutual, Master Bruce."

_**I know that with a little TLC this could really shine, but it seems like every time I come to this story I have none to give. It's just so natural with all the Rachel stories in a way that's missing when I'm dealing with Batman: Solo.** _

* * *

17th Chapter: Show Off [The Flash]

* * *

18th Chapter: Amazon [Batman meets Diana]

**_As a kid growing up in the early 2000s, it was kind of inevitable that I would end up being a DC fan. I mean we're talking B:TAS (reruns), Teen Titans, Justice League, JL:U, Static Shock, and_ ** **_Young Justice_ ** **_(the first season, and_ ** **ONLY _the first_ _). I don't know how many people remember it favorably, but in the Justice League: Unlimited cartoon Wonder Woman and Batman had a blossoming relationship. I rather liked that, and still haven't made up my mind on whether or not I'm putting it in my universe. You can see just the slightest hint of that in the short scene I have:_**

"Is it common in Man's world to stare at another for longer than it is welcome?"

Batman didn't reply, while Superman gave an uncomfortable chuckle and tried to diffuse the situation.

"He isn't like most men, ma'am. But he's smart and skilled."

All the Gotham vigilante did was narrow his masked eyes. Diana glared back.

"I would know the reason for your impertinence, Dark One."

"You are. I don't trust you and I don't know your powers. I never turn away from a threat."

The costumed woman lost her scowl for a look of respect, though she raised her chin in challenge.

"I feel the same. Should you hinder me in any manner, you _will_ be dealt with – harshly."

At that, Bruce crossed his arms and scoffed internally. "You say that like I'd _let_ you."

_**It could be read as a totally normal interaction, but if you squint and go into it with the preconceived notion that they're totally into each other then it has tons of chemistry. It's better than Superman and Wonder Woman together, in my humble opinion.** _

* * *

19th Chapter: No One Knows What It's Like to be the Batman (Hugo Strange)

20th Chapter: Brightest Day, Darkest Knight [Batman meets the Green Lantern Hal Jordan]

21st Chapter: Killer Instinct [Batman must stop Killer Croc's murder spree]

22nd Chapter: Somewhere Beyond the Sea [Aquaman interferes with the Gotham coastline]

23rd Chapter: Three, Six, Five [Calendar Man evades the Dark Knight for nearly a year, killing the whole way]

24th Chapter: Mind Games [Martian Manhunter]

25th Chapter: Heads or Tails [Two-Face is created while Bruce finds juggling his two lives hard]

26th Chapter: Knightfall [Bane breaks the Bat]

27th Chapter: The Demon's Head [Ra's tries to make Bruce his protégé]

Last Chapter: Super Friends [The heroes found the Justice League]

_**Like I said, this is the most embarrassing one. In a way it's good to get the worst out quickly. The foundation for everything is there, just waiting to be built on, but as you'll see** _ **VERY _quickly I'm better at building with Rachel. I have seventy-six fucking pages of notes - needless to say that I won't post it all at once like I did with this thing, but I will probably clump together the first few chapters just because they don't have a lot to them. There's this trend that will be impossible to miss, and that is that I am not good at beginnings._**

**_AT. ALL._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be hard to believe, but what we've just gone through are the sparsest notes I have on any story. This six book series, guys. Not to mention, if I find there's enough interest in it [let's be honest, if I randomly feel like it] I'll throw in the spin-offs I made. No matter how hard I work on polishing these docs up and making them feel like an authentic novel, I'm still a fanfic-y bitch at my core -- there are crossovers, people.
> 
> My point is that everyone should buckle in for a long, LONG ride through Origins.


	3. Origins Chapters

Second Chapter: Charity (Rachel doubts her place in Bruce’s life) [8]

Third Chapter: Refuge (Rachel discovers Bruce’s secret) [8]

Fourth Chapter: Autonomy (Rachel becomes Robin) [8]

Fifth Chapter: Legends (Rachel meets the JL while Batman is away on a mission) [8]

Sixth Chapter: Murder (Robin deals with her first murder case) [8]

Seventh Chapter: Jealousy (Robin’s first run-in with Catwoman) [9]

Eighth Chapter: Obsession (Robin deals with the Joker for the first time) [9]

Ninth Chapter: Training (Bruce sends Rachel to train with the Amazons) [9]

Tenth Chapter: Soirée (Rachel skipping a party leads to some dire situations also the kid from Savior is there) [9]

Eleventh Chapter: Successor (Rachel meets Ra’s Al Ghul trying to get to Bruce) [9]

Twelfth Chapter: Temptress (Robin meets Poison Ivy) [10]

Thirteenth Chapter: Violate (Robin deals with her first child molester case) [10]

Fourteenth Chapter: Afraid (Robin faces Scarecrow for the first time) [10]

Fifteenth Chapter: Friends (Robin meets Speedy and Kid Flash) [10]

Sixteenth Chapter: Hypnagogia (Robin fights the Mad Hatter for the first time) [10]

Seventeenth Chapter: Truth (Robin and/or Batman are kidnapped by Riddler and injected with truth serum) [11]

Eighteenth Chapter: Perfect (Robin & Batman face a murderer with high standards) [11]

Nineteenth Chapter: League (Robin accompanying Batman on a League mission for the first time) [11]

Twentieth Chapter: Snatch (Rachel is kidnapped for ransom, then rescued by Gordon?) [11]

Twenty First Chapter: Secret (Robin’s secret identity is almost discovered) [11]

Twenty Second Chapter: Subzero (fights Mr. Freeze and almost frozen, small Court of Owls reference?) [12]

Twenty Third Chapter: Danger (Batman takes Robin on an especially life-threatening mission) [12]

Twenty Fourth Chapter: Assassin (Rachel/Robin encounters Slade as a civilian???) [12]

Twenty Fifth Chapter: Switched (Robin transported to AU where Dick Grayson is NW and JT is RH) [12]

Twenty Sixth Chapter: Savior (Robin saves a civilian and suddenly has a special fan) [13]

Twenty Seventh Chapter: Scars (Rachel’s numerous scars discovered; questions arise about Bruce’s parenting) [13]

Twenty Eighth Chapter: Duplicate (Robin finds Jason [committing crime?] stealing her motorcycle tires) [13]

Twenty Ninth Chapter: Reality [working title] (Rachel questions everything) [13]

Thirtieth Chapter: Deception (Terra joins the JL working as Slade’s plant, and Rachel works undercover for a mission) [13]

Thirty First Chapter: Rookie (Babs becomes Batgirl) [13/14]

Thirty Second Chapter: Satisfied or Autonomy (Rachel looks back on her life so far) [FINAL]


	4. The Story That Was...Then Wasn't...Then Was...Then...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good backstory is key to a good hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't remember the amount of times that I posted Origins on FF.net before deleting it to try again a year or so later. Coming back and putting up a different, edited version, then leaving that up for a time and eventually the cycle continues and I take it down. I did it yesterday, except this time I'm not doing the same thing.
> 
> I'm breaking the cycle and being different enough to hope for a better outcome.

Rachel Grayson stared up at the bottom of the top bed. The girl that had shared the bunk with her had been released on good behavior, meaning that at least for the moment, she had this room all to herself. While that was good in the sense that her former roommate could no longer threaten to stab her with a shiv, it also meant that Rachel was confined to silence, and in the silence, she heard things she'd rather forget.

Her eyes burned with the urge to blink. Yet she knew if she did that, she'd see them fall again. And again. And again. There was no end as long as it stayed fresh in her mind. Tears sprung up at the very final thought that she was alone in the world at the age of eight. There was the sound of a shrill bell and the automatic locks disengaging, signaling that it was time for lunch and then a little time in the courtyard for those not in solitary.

Rachel sighed and slowly got up. She was careful to keep her head down and her ears open for anybody looking to fight. She had been quick to learn this tactic. Because she was the youngest and smallest among the kids here, her first week had been spent bruised, bloody, and broken. By her second week she discovered that her acrobatic skills could be used to fight back and defend herself. A lot of the juvie repeats didn't care and were ready to release their pent-up aggression, but the newcomers soon backed off.

The slop the crabby old ladies called lunch was eaten slowly, and with constant looks behind her back for any potential abusers. Once the tray was empty, Rachel delivered her tray to the kids on washing duty before jogging to the courtyard. She didn't have much time left before the bell rang again, and she'd have to go back to that dark, lonely cell they called a room. She wanted a couple deep breaths of fresh air to hold her over until tomorrow.

She had been leaning on a concrete bench, soaking up the delicious sunlight when a large shadow blocked it. She opened her eyes to find the oldest girl in juvie glaring down at her. Her muscles automatically tensed in preparation for a fight, though she hid it as best as she could.

"You're the new kid, right?"

Rachel nodded, not wanting to say something that the beefy girl could perceive as an invitation to beat her to a pulp.

"The circus freak?"

Again, she nodded. Being called names had happened to her long before she came here, so it didn't bother her as much as people thought. The other girl gestured to the chain link fence that separated the girls from the boys and gave Rachel a skeptical look.

"Think you can climb that fence and give my boyfriend a message?"

She knew it was wrong. She knew that if she got caught, she would be in _serious_ trouble, but that was a more distant threat that the one huge one still blocking her sunlight with a stance that said she was ready to 'convince' her if she said no. So Rachel nodded, and felt a small shiver of excitement travel up her spine.

"It'll be on a piece of paper taped under the basketball rack next to the fence." The girl scowled before raising her fist and laughing when Rachel flinched.

**_Let's be real here: the whole "Dick Grayson in Juvie" thing is very...fanfic-y and NOT in a good way. In the current version of Origins, juvenile detention is completely scrapped and despite not having a lot to show it's the better for it._ **

**_Now, there is no hiding that this is not a work purely based on only my ideas; no pretending that this isn't fanfiction, but I can still do my damnedest to make it at the level of an actual published novel. A YA series that teens of both sexes could enjoy, selling thousands of copies because the current comic line-up is so bleak that people are willing to take a chance. Of course, in my daydreams my books are great and the readers love Rachel and Bruce and Alfred just as much as I do._ **

* * *

Rachel sat on her lumpy bed in the darkest clothes she had. She had on a black shirt with some band name on it and dark blue jeans, both of which were at least two sizes too big for her because they didn't have anything smaller to give her. She stared apprehensively at the caged clock high on the opposite wall. It had been forty minutes since lights out, and time seemed to be going purposefully slow, just to frustrate her. One of her rattier shoes was wedged in the door, creating a gap covered by the quilt from the top bunk, probably big enough for her to slip through. Sometimes it helped to be tiny.

Her heart sped up as she heard the _clack_ of the female warden's boots pass by her door. Even after she had gone, Rachel still couldn't calm her shaky breathing. The horrible thing was, through all this fear of being caught and the punishment, she was still excited and filled with anticipation. There was a certain...thrill that went through her at breaking the rules.

_It's not bad, I'm just ready to get it over with; that's all._

After fifteen minutes of waiting had gone by, she had slipped out. She nearly shrieked in surprise when the only thing she felt under her foot was air for a second and she nearly died of a heart attack when it finally did land with a _smack_ on the concrete floor. She waited tensely for the Warden to come stomping back and kick her all the way into solitary. When nothing happened, she slowly exited the rest of the way and made her way to the courtyard as silently as possible.

In the dim light of the crescent moon that was out that night, she was able to find the shadowed basketball rack and felt underneath. It took barely a moment to locate the note and carefully slip it out. Rachel stuffed it in her jeans pocket and looked at the fence apprehensively. If there was any point to turn back, this was her last. With a deep breath, she jumped and gripped the chain link for dear life. Slowly, her 'old days' in the circus came back to her, and she gleefully climbed like a monkey up and over the fence. She crawled down until she was satisfied with the short distance between her and the ground. Taking the small leap, she looked around for a good place to stick the note when a light appeared at the edge of her vision. The sounding clacking boots came closer, and she decided on impulse to slip it under a random basketball on the rack. She still hoped to make it out of this unscathed, so she crouched behind the rack and waited for the light to go away.

When it didn't, she started to get worried. This wasn't just a regular sweep; she was _looking_ for something.

_Hopefully not me_ , Rachel thought desperately as another moment passed with the light still swinging from side to side. Her hopes were dashed when the Warden's voice rang out across both courtyards.

There was a tense moment where nothing happened. Rachel came to realize in that moment that there was nothing she could do, and that the only silver lining was that at least now she wouldn't have to deal with all the other girls. The warden wasn't going to leave any time soon, and she couldn't even consider running, because she knew that however bad this place was, it would be a thousand times worse out in that big city alone. Reluctantly, she came away from her hiding spot and into the light. The warden _tsk-_ ed when she saw where her little inmate had ended up. She walked up to the fence and gave Rachel a quick once over for any obvious injuries (yet clearly overlooking the older bruises) before narrowing her eyes at her.

"Should have known. You've been causing trouble since your first day here. How'd you get over there, girl? And without a scratch on you."

The younger girl just looked down and didn't say a word. The warden _tsk-_ ed again at her behavior and pointed at the ground directly in front of her.

"I want you back over here in ten seconds, or you get solitary for three weeks instead of just two."

Rachel quickly scrambled back over and landed in front of her with only one second to spare. The older woman raised a brow and grabbed her arm in a tight grip. She marched them quickly back into the building and past her old room, all the way to the solitary block, with her stumbling behind the warden's long strides. She ushered her into the cramped room and gave her a sympathetic but hard look.

"I hope to God someone comes for you, kid."

Rachel stared at the dank cement ceiling of her cell all night with that ringing in her ears, only interrupted by her own real sobs.

_**The beginning of Origins has changed many times. This isn't even the really the true first draft of the story, this is a heavily distilled tenth (or so) pass that I eventually abandoned, but it's the one that survived in the dreaded Scrapyard so it's the one that I'm putting up to add some context and history. Origins began in 2013/2014 as a Young Justice fanfic with a female Robin, and it has changed so much since then. Not only is it now set in an alternate universe in the past, there are unique twists to characters and my writing has improved greatly over time.** _

_**The longer I worked on it and planned it out, the more connections I made between the chapters and the stories themselves, and the more real everything started to feel. The world around these characters came into its own, and the characters themselves were fleshed out to become whole, believable people. You know that feeling you get when reading/watching Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings? The feeling that fills you when seeing the vast universe of Star Wars?** _

_**The feeling of** _ _**I want to live in this universe, I love these people** _ _**.** _

_**That's what I wanted and hopefully what I've partially achieved. Obviously the full effect requires a complete series, with all the little moments connected together in a whole picture, but until that day (if it ever comes) all I've got is this.** _

* * *

Rachel didn't really keep track of time. It seemed silly to, in a way. Most of the girls stuck in solitary had dish duty or washed the laundry as part of their punishment, but because the warden knew about her fence climbing abilities, had decided it was best to keep her trapped in the tiny little box they called a room. For a girl who once flew two stories in the air without the service of a net, this did not go over very well. She constantly paced and did small flips or cartwheels; stretched into weird positions in the middle of the cold hard floor.

She had been about to bounce off the bed and see how many flips she could do when the sound of the door unlocking echoed loudly around her room. A nice-looking woman, probably a clerk, had opened it and stepped slightly out of the way for a large, stiff man in a large, stiff suit to walk in and smile too widely at her. As soon as the door shut behind the clerk, he dropped it for a more empathetic expression. To be honest, it was the first one Rachel had seen. It wasn't pity, or anger, or fake smiles, or strained laughs.

It was his understanding that she was alone, and that she was confused, and terrified, and so many other things.

She slowly sat down on her hard cot and waited for his response. He took a couple steps until he was towering over her, then got down on one knee so he was level with her. It was a nice feeling to have someone actually care about her craning her neck to look up at them. He stuck out a hand and she tentatively grasped it with her own, much smaller one. He shook it with a small smile.

"I'm Bruce Wayne. What's your name?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his ploy for normality. He had to know who she was to ask to see her.

"Rachel Grayson."

He nodded firmly, as if that decided it; whatever _it_ was. When he nodded, she also saw him give her a quick once-over before Mr. Wayne gave her bruised and bedraggled state a very concerned look. He glanced at the door before talking in the quietest voice Rachel had ever heard a person use.

"Are they treating alright in here, Rachel?"

She nodded her head. "Just fine, Mr. Wayne. I've been in solitary for the past...what day is today?"

"Thursday."

"The past week, then."

He gave her a concerned look and she shrugged, though his seemingly sincere concern was the first she'd seen in what felt like an eternity, she was too scared to show that it affected her. She struggled for nonchalance when everything inside her was fluttering with hope that she would be getting out of here. Mr. Wayne seemed conflicted before shuffling carefully closer.

"How many people have come to visit you?"

Somehow embarrassed at her lack of numbers, Rachel looked away and blushed. "Nobody besides reporters."

His eyes saddened incredibly, in a refreshingly genuine way. Most of the reporters just patted her knee or drew their eyebrows together and puckered their lips before quickly continuing. Again, his sincerity came as a wave of relief for her not to have to pretend that everything was alright just because nobody understood.

"Everything is _not_ okay." Rachel whispered as tears began to fall of their own volition.

Mr. Wayne was hesitant in his movements as he haltingly wrapped his arms around her, moving his large, warm hand in a circular motion on her back as she began to sob like she had never sobbed before. She buried her head in his shoulder, her tears soiling his expensive suit jacket.

"No Rachel, everything _isn't_ okay. But we're going to _make_ it okay together."

She lifted her head and looked at him. She was no longer sobbing, but she still took deep, shuddering breaths that wracked her small frame.

"I'm going to take you away from here to come live with me, if that's what you really want."

Rachel felt her chest tighten with so many clamoring, happy emotions that all she could do was nod her head vigorously as she sniffled. His small smile grew a fraction before nodding back at her.

"I'm going to help you through this until you can say that at least _something_ is okay, because I know better than most out there how you feel."

She began roughly swiping her few remaining tears off her cheeks and smiled at him uncertainly. "Alright, Mr. Wayne. I'd really like that."

* * *

Driving up to Wayne Manor was like stepping into another world separate even from the one she had with her parents. It was a sprawling palace of beautifully old architecture and extensive lands. A friendly old man sporting a pristine suit and proper British accent had shown her to her room, but didn't seem very fond of her dirty state, immediately directing her to the bathroom after she had set her small duffel down on her large bed.

Seeing as though _Rachel_ wasn't very fond of her filthy clothes, hair, and skin, she took the man's subtle advice and quickly found her way to the immense bathroom and shucked off her disgusting clothes. Only when she reached the bathtub big enough to be a swimming pool did she realize that she had no idea how to work it.

With a blush that she was sure reached down to her toes, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself like a cape before opening the door a sliver and calling out the only name she knew.

"Mr. Wayne?!"

She heard the calculating click of expensive shoes on the dark wooden floor of the hallway until the old man appeared in her vision, limited by the slim space of the crack.

"Master Bruce is otherwise occupied, young miss. What did you need?"

Rachel's blush increased tenfold and she shuffled her feet and opened the door a bit more.

"I, uh...I don't know how to turn on the bathtub, mister."

The well-dressed man chuckled before smiling warmly at her. "Don't worry a wit, Mistress Rachel. Master Bruce _still_ has no idea."

She allowed a small giggle to pass through at the man's comment. It was slightly reassuring to know that at least she and Mr. Wayne were on the same page with that at least. She was about to tell him so when she realized a very important missing detail.

"Um, I'm _really_ sorry mister, but I don't know your name."

Rachel opened the door until she was sure he could get in, and did, while he responded. "Alfred Pennyworth, at your beck and call."

She refused to ask what _that_ meant, seeing as though he would probably think she was stupid, and she didn't want his kind attitude towards her change because he thought she wasn't as intelligent as him. She simply nodded and paid close attention to what his nimble hands did as he carefully turned on the water and adjusted it accordingly. Every so often, he would ask her to stick her hand under the gushing flow of the faucet to see if it was to her liking. As soon as she found the right temperature, she nodded and waited with Alfred for the tub to fill up. He even added some of the shampoo to make a bubble bath, even after Rachel affirmed that she was _much_ too big for such a thing.

Once it was all set up, he smiled at her one more time before turning to leave. "Thank you, Mr. Alfred."

Because he was turned away, she couldn't tell what his facial expression was, but she had a very firm belief that he still had that warm smile on his lips as he nodded his head and walked out, allowing her to slip in and begin to feel human again.

* * *

A week passed, and Rachel's new guardian had suggested she start going to school; a place where she could meet kids her age and learn things in a classroom. As a traveling circus performer, she had never even _heard_ of school, let alone the process of learning things at a group speed. It had always just been her and her parents in their cozy little trailer reading from the books they owned and teaching her everything they knew of math, history, and English.

"I don't know Mr. Wayne..."

Rachel and Bruce sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, the former swinging her stool from side to side restlessly. He looked at her disapprovingly over the _Gotham Gazette_ ; his already finished _Daily Planet_ underneath the empty plate that had at one point contained egg whites and whole wheat toast before he had inhaled it absently.

"Rachel, I thought I told you to call me Bruce. And besides, I feel bad for keeping you holed up in this empty old place. I have this very real fear that I'll come home one day to find you with a beard and a cane yelling at kids to keep off your lawn."

While the joke seemed funny enough - it had gotten her to laugh, hadn't it? - it still felt like he had been trying too hard to inject a forced lightness to his tone. It _always_ seemed that way when she was with him. They would eat breakfast together, sometimes in utter silence and other times with uselessly idle chatter, before he rushed off to work and usually wasn't seen again until the next morning, where they would repeat the cycle. Sometimes the busy tycoon made it in time for supper, but usually he only appeared in time to catch some eggs and toast while looking haggard and either in a suit or a robe.

She tried not to bother herself with it, but she couldn't help but feel like he was betraying her in some way. Had he taken her in only to leave her as soon as she was settled?

"You start next week."

His certain words snapped her out of her thoughts and into a much darker state. Rachel definitely did _not_ want to attend a rich school full of snotty kids.

"What?"

Bruce sighed and took a finishing gulp of his steaming coffee. He set it down firmly with a stern look in her direction.

"You're going to Privette Elementary starting next week. You can't be kept away forever, and it's important that you connect with other children your age. I want you to at least _try_."

She glared at him before sliding off the stool and making her way up the stairs to her large, empty room.

* * *

Rachel had only been at the preppy school for snobs two weeks and she had already been through four fights and six kids stupid enough to tease her. She had found a safe haven in the boughs of one of the trees that were planted in the courtyard and was spending her lunch there to avoid all the nasty looks. Just as she was about to jump down three of the girls from her grade that she hadn't bothered to learn the names of gathered under the exact spot that Rachel would have landed.

"Oh my God, _I know_. I can't believe Mr. Wayne did that. My mommy says it's what's called a _publicity stunt_ , and that Rachel Grayson is a _charity case_."

The other girls nodded snootily, like they knew _exactly_ what she was talking about. Rachel stayed quiet in the tree, though it was growing increasingly hard not to drop down, scare the crud out of the snotty brats, and show them just what a charity case could do to their pretty faces.

"Well, my mommy says that she went on a _date_ with Bruce Wayne, and she said that he was such a big softie."

The two girls looked at the third in horror. " _Ewww._ Boys are _so_ gross. What's a date?"

They went on talking about the _date_ , the girl whose mom had gone on one explaining what her mom told her. Rachel had no interest in that, and sorely wanted to get down before the bell rang for recess to end. Her only problem was the fact that they _would not move_. She didn't give a crap about what they thought was behind Mr. Wayne's decision to taker her in; she just wanted to get away from them and their superficial conversations. But those words had struck a very deep cord in her.

_Charity case_.

She wasn't just a way for Mr. Wayne to look good, was she? It might explain why he was so distant, and never really seemed to want to spend time with her. She didn't bother getting down once the bell rang and the girls left, because they didn't even register over the roaring in her ears; a mixture of rage, betrayal, and utter sorrow. She couldn't believe that he would take her in and be nice to her just to make himself more popular.

Rachel didn't realize how much time was passing until two voices were heard under her. One was easily recognized as Bruce, while the other one was unfamiliar.

"I got worried when Alfred said she didn't show up."

"I apologize, Mr. Wayne. She must have found a spot during recess. I'll talk to the teachers about-"

The strange voice stopped, and peeping out carefully, she saw that they were right under her in the shade of the tree. Bruce looked up and smiled with relief.

"I don't think that will be necessary. It was a mistake to expose her to all this so soon. I believe homeschooling in order."

The balding man followed his example and jumped slightly at the sight of her staring down at them from her perch. He looked even more surprised once the younger man's words sunk in but seemed too stressed to retaliate or attempt to cajole him into considering a different option. He just muttered something under his breath and nodded; turning back towards the large school building with a slightly defeated shuffle. Once he was far enough away, Rachel carefully climbed down and rested her eyes everywhere but his face.

"Rachel, I know I told the principal that you were going to be homeschooled, but I can easily take that back. You have to tell me what's wrong, otherwise I can't help you."

She finally found the courage to look up at him. "Am I a charity case? A publicity stunt?"

His eyes widened slightly before sighing and looking over towards the sleekly designed building. "Who wouldn't want charity in a world as messed up as this?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another major shift in the writing was the realization that the tone of Rachel's perspective was kind of ridiculous. What realistic eight-year-old kid has this kind of vocabulary? Retaliate, cajole, haggard, affirmed. The thing about third person limited is that you are LIMITED to a single character's innerworkings. These words wouldn't be out of place coming from Bruce's head, or Alfred's, as intelligent older men it makes sense that they would have a broad vocabulary.
> 
> A little girl with no formal education?
> 
> Uh...no.
> 
> Things like that or randomly blurting out lines in a clunky way are the little pieces that add up to getting six chapters (46 pages; 26,868 words) into a work and then scrapping the whole thing. After taking a step back and looking at what I'd written, and so much, it felt absolutely impossible to continue with what I saw as a half-formed dead end project, leading to current day where I have 76 pages of notes and not even 20 of the actual story.


	5. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel 
> 
> is 
> 
> having 
> 
> a 
> 
> really
> 
> bad
> 
> day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw shit.  
> Here we are again.

Rachel Grayson walked around the circus grounds like she’d done her whole life, smiling at all the performers she passed by. Pop Haley ruffled her hair and laughed as he walked past her. She fixed it with a scowl, but it didn’t last long. She finally found what she had come out of her trailer for: the only elephant Haley’s Circus had, Zitka. The young acrobat smiled and walked toward her friend. The animal lifted her trunk and wiggled her big ears, which made the young girl laugh.

“I know, I know, it’s been too long. I had a lot of practicing to do.”

Zitka blinked down at her when she hugged her huge leg.

Rachel let go to give the elephant a few pats on its side and giggled when Zitka lifted her big trunk to put it on top of the child’s head. It messed up her side braid, but she still gave her friend a kiss on her big, floppy ear.

“Watch out, kid. She could knock you over in a second.”

The youngest Grayson looked up at the big, bulky man walking toward her and the elephant. Markus was the Strong Man, and he always looked really serious.

“I will. Excited for the show tonight? We’ve never been to Gotham before.”

He grunted.

“Me too. Mama said that tonight we’re performing without a net, you know, because big city people will think that’s way cooler than the other circuses.”

“Hm.”

Rachel looked at the older man’s face as he tossed more hay toward Zitka. Growing up around him had made her pretty good at seeing what he meant in the looks he made instead of what he said. His mouth had an even bigger frown than normal, and his eyebrows went down, so his eyes were harder to see. He was upset.

“I’ll be safe, promise. Super-duper extra safe.”

His eyebrows lifted, but his frown stayed. Rachel was pretty sure that nothing would ever make him smile.

“Sure thing, kid. I know John and Mary’d never…”

Markus made a big sigh and turned to the girl, even crouched down so that she didn’t have to look so high up.

“You’ll be great up there, kid.”

Rachel stared at herself in the big mirror that was in her parents’ bedroom a few hours later.

She turned to the right.

She turned to the left.

The girl looked at the short bright green sleeves on the bright red vest with three sunny yellow straps at the top to close up the front, the same color as the belt. On the bottom half of the leotard was bright green to match the pixie boots that were on her feet. Once she was all done looking at it, she turned to her smiling mama in a matching costume with big blue eyes and pouty cupid’s bow lips.

_She looked stupid._

“Mama, I don’t look good.”

The woman came closer with a frown and crouched down.

“What is wrong?”

“It’s…silly.”

She brushed the child’s pitch-black hair behind her ear gently as she talked.

“Rachel, your new costume is a part of who you are; a part of who _we_ are. When we soar up there, above the earth, I see you and think of your outstretched arms as you fly. You are my little robin.”

Her papa smiled in the doorway and tipped his head to the side. Mama smiled warmly back at him.

“And what about me?”

The silly look on his face was enough to get Rachel to snicker.

” _Our_ little robin.”

“Well, little robin, it’s time for us to do last minute checks and get in some practice before tonight. Why don’t you head out first? Your mother and I will be right behind you.”

With a bright grin, she nodded and raced out of the small trailer for the big top close by. On her way, she made sure to say hello to the other performers rehearsing their acts. Once she finally got into the tent, she barely slowed down until she almost slammed into a pair of legs in expensive looking suit pants.

Sliding to a stop she followed the pants up to a nice-looking polo shirt and tan, hairy arms, and bushy hairs peeking out on a tan chest. It was a man with a big neck and a head full of slicked back, oily, salt and pepper hair. His mouth had a stuck-up smirk that rubbed Rachel’s gut the wrong way, and the man’s cold brown eyes made her heartbeat skip.

“What do we have here?”

The man’s voice was harsh and gravelly, his heavy accent reminded her of the mob movies that she sometimes saw on TV.

“Guess you’re not much of a talker, eh, kid? Do you know where the hell this guy Haly is?”

She nodded slowly but took a small step back.

“Well, do you mind _telling_ me where he is, you little – “

“Can I help you?”

Rachel swore she’d never been so happy to hear her dad’s voice in her _life_. She turned toward the tent entrance where she saw both her dad and her mom, which made her feel much safer.

“Yeah. I’m lookin’ for a guy. Haly? Know where he is?”

It was obvious that her dad didn’t like the man either, because he put her and her mom behind him. He still answered.

“He has his own trailer, it’s out more to the south of the camp. Is there something that you need?”

His voice wasn’t as warm and happy as it usually was.

“Oh, just giving the old man an offer. A business deal, like. Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way Mister…”

“…Grayson. And you are?”

“Tony, Tony Zucco. Don’t you forget it, old man.”

The suspicious man tipped his head and walked out the big top like he owned the world, going in the direction her father had told him. After a minute, both her parents moved to finish setting up and checking the trapeze. Rachel stayed behind, her eyes going to the exit where the stranger had left.

“I’ve really gotta go.” She blurted out.

She was embarrassed as soon as she said it, but her mom just looked down from the high platform with a small frown.

“Alright, sweetheart, but be quick. We might be adding a few stunts to the act.”

She left the big top in a sprint, the feeling in the pit of her stomach not leaving her alone. Actually, it was getting worse. She was dead set on getting to Pop Haly’s trailer and finding out just what that mean old guy wanted. In her hurry she started leaping and flipping over different things in her way, until she did a quick handstand flip that she was forced to turn into a roll between a pair of legs. She skidded to a stop for the second time that afternoon, turning back around to the person she’d barely missed bumping into.

The man had black hair like hers, and sharp cheeks and chin. His eyes were really grey, and they made her think of stormy skies. He was looking right at her, and she was staring right back. No one was more out of place than the townie in front of her wearing a really nice suit.

Rachel didn’t know what to do. Her parents had raised her to say sorry when she’d done something wrong, but she needed to know what that guy was going to do. She rushed out a quick apology.

“I’m sorry, mister. I’ll watch where I’m going from now on, promise. Well, enjoy the show, mister! Bye!”

He didn’t even get a chance to open his mouth and accept the apology, but she didn’t have time, racing off to get to the trailer.

As soon as she got there, she slowed down her breath and opened her ears. She didn’t have to listen too hard. They were yelling.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, old man! I’m a part of a powerful family, and they don’t take the answer ‘no’ too kindly.”

“As I told you before and I’ll tell you again, we are a _travelling_ circus! We spend more than half the year across Europe. I don’t see how paying you in America for ‘protection’ will help us in Germany. And frankly, I don’t appreciate your insinuations on why we’d need you and your family’s paid protection.”

“Then maybe you can learn to appreciate a more direct offer: you cough up the dough when we want and however much we want or who knows? Maybe some of your precious performers start paying your debt. _Without_ cash. You wouldn’t want any… _accidents_ hurting your people, would you?”

Rachel couldn’t keep in a small gasp when she heard those cold words dripping with hatred.

“Get off my grounds, sir. I don’t want to see your face around here again, you got that?”

She had never heard Pop Haly so mad. When the handle started to turn, the young acrobat realized that she would be in plain view as soon as the door swung open, so she ran like crazy all the way back to the big top, determined to tell her parents about the man’s threats.

“That certainly was a long bathroom break, little missy. Are you sure didn’t sneak off to see the animals?”

Her father’s voice was light and happy, the opposite of how Rachel felt right then.

“No, papa. But there’s something I have to tell you. You and mama. That man – “

She was interrupted by her mom, who stood on the platform closest to her.

“Less talking, more practicing. Come now, Rachel, we only have a few hours.”

The girl nodded and started to climb the ladder, still trying to get out the important news.

“Yes, mama. That man, the one from earlier, he – “

“Just a city man trying to get an early peek at the world’s greatest circus, darling.”

Her mama’s voice was soft, but her hands were firm as she directed the younger girl to her spot.

“Now, are we going to get the performance perfect, or are we going to speak ill of a stranger?”

For some reason, Rachel felt like crying, but pushed it down as she smiled up at her mother.

“You’re right. Let’s put on the best show ever.”

Oh God.

They were _falling_.

_Oh God_.

Her parents made an awful, loud sound that was somewhere between a _splat_ and a _crunch_.

Rachel Mary Grayson stared down at the ground. But it wasn’t just the ground that she was staring at. Her parents were there too, not moving. Blood was pooling around them and their broken bodies were hard to focus on. There was total silence for what felt like forever until she screamed. Then the tent broke out in to choas and everyone ran away, while Rachel stayed on her perch, still not fully understanding. She had screamed, and they just fell.

_Fell_?

Yes their blood was there, being soaked up by the dirt underneath their squashed bodies. But Rachel felt like it wasn’t her parents. They were someone else, not a part of her and her life. Her life. Her life was going to be a mess in a minute, when it fully hit her that her parents _were_ there on the ground; there on the ground with their sharp white bones sticking out.

She scrambled down from the platform, running as fast as she could to where her parents landed. She tangled a hand in her mama’s sticky hair and another squeezing her dad’s costume. Hot tears fell and fell down her cheeks and dripped down her chin. She sobbed like a baby while the world around her blurred and twisted.

Someone was pulling at her, but she didn’t have it in her to resist, she just _felt_ herself being tugged away from the center ring and carried outside the tent. Her eyes burned and she wondered how long it had been since she blinked. Or how long it had been since the wires had snapped. Or how long it had been since her parents had fallen and she had screamed at their bodies. The hands were gone. Someone was talking but it didn’t matter, everything came through muffled, like when she dunked her head under her bathwater.

The flashing lights were fuzzy, because she was still crying. She barely even realized that she was shaking like a tree in a storm. Breathing had never been harder, so she sounded weird when she sucked in air.

She wanted her papa. She wanted her mama. She wanted them to tell her that it was alright, things would be okay, because that’s what they always said, even if it was something serious.

They were gone. Gone for good. Gone forever.

Really awful sounds kept coming out of her even though her throat felt like it was glued shut.

She needed those things. She needed her parents; they were her whole world. What would she do without them?

It felt like she was inside somebody else’s body. Like she wasn’t the one screaming and crying in the back of a police car while everyone ran away. As the car finally moved, one thing kept going through her head over and over.

The sound had been a mix between a _splat_ and a _crunch_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the few chapters to be uploaded without interruption/"commentary". This is the edited version of Origins' first chapter: Acrobat. From here, it only gets MESSIER. Small, undeveloped details that define entire plotlines and arcs are littered all over the semi-composed notes of Origins. Details I'll have to explain in between disparate scenes that don't seem to connect but are supposed to in the finished chapter.
> 
> Honestly, it doesn't really matter much if it gets confusing, because I'm probably going to be the only one reading this tripe.
> 
> woohoo.
> 
> P.S. This will also probably be the shortest chapter you suckers ever see


	6. This is Where the Fun Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 2-7
> 
> Charity  
> Refuge  
> Autonomy  
> Legends  
> Murder  
> Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had to pick, I would say the period between chapter one and chapter eight is the most barren. It has fragments of scenes and rough ideas that are yet to be typed out, but nothing as lengthy or solid as later chapters. And that's what we're covering today!
> 
> woohoo.
> 
> Told you I suck at beginnings

Charity - the voluntary giving of help to those in need. Synonyms: aid, relief.

* * *

Rachel didn't sleep for almost two days after her mom and dad fell. She was too scared to close her eyes, so she just didn't. The rest of _that_ night she went through sitting in the back of the policeman's car, waiting in the station, and ending up at the group home. A lot of it was blurry to her.

The next day she was introduced to the other kids (three boys about her age and a big girl) at breakfast, before they left for school. She stared down at the worn, too-big brown flats they'd given her and toed at the cracked linoleum floor while Ms. Reid told them about the circus and her parents. Her oily hair protected her from everybody's eyes, so they couldn't see how much she cried.

They all said _"OK"_ and finished their waffles and walked out of the narrow kitchen, leaving her alone with the lady in charge of the group home. She didn't look up, but she did blink hard and wipe her cheeks so she wasn't embarrassed.

"How about some breakfast, Rachel?"

The girl sniffed and nodded, still staring at the orange and yellow pattern interrupted by a big split, then remembered her papa saying " _if I ever find out you've been rude, we're going to have a long, serious talk_ ". Rachel popped her head up just when the woman was reaching for the cabinet above the sink but it took her a few swallows to make her throat not so tight.

"Yes pl-please. Thank y-you."

Ms. Reid set down the small flower-printed bowl she'd grabbed with a big, fake smile.

"What a good, polite girl. A lot of the kids that come through were never taught manners."

If Rachel wasn't so hungry, she would have run away so she could cry really loudly like she wanted to. Her mama and papa would never teach her manners ever again, and the only reason she was so polite was because of them. She wanted to hear _them_ say that she was good girl who used her manners.

_**[She's given a bowl of fruity cereal with a spoon that she's told is her spoon and she must memorize it and know which it is because there's no replacement]** _

* * *

_**[His picture is in the newspaper or on TV]** _

That man from the big top had hurt her parents.

_He killed her parents_.

She hadn't remembered him when she'd been with the police, because all she could think about was the blood on her costume and how swollen and scratchy her eyes were and how hard it was to breathe. The girl didn't listen to the grown-ups that talked to her, and didn't like their scary smiles when she looked up from her red hands.

The adults that said they would take care of her wouldn't listen when she tried to tell them her story. Ms. Reid got so pale when she mentioned the name that Rachel thought she might be really sick.

* * *

Bruce Wayne stared at the newspaper on top of his desk, his elbows resting in front of it and his hands steepled in front of his frowning mouth.

**FLYING GRAYSONS FALL 50 STORIES IN TRAGIC CIRCUS ACCIDENT, DAUGHTER ORPHANED**

According to the Gotham Gazette, the owner, Haly was trying to get the girl back and having no luck.

The billionaire had been at the show that night, he had seen nearly the whole ordeal of the Flying Grayson's fall. There was that moment, the moment he had been forcing himself to go through every day since the incident. He had seen them begin to fall and had zeroed in on the uncomprehending face of tiny little Rachel, but just before they hit the ground, he closed his eyes.

The billionaire had kept his focus on the crumpled face of that little girl once the police and ambulance arrived. Her broken eyes, so blue and large on her face that he felt a tug deep in his chest. If there had been a mirror in that back alley over twenty years ago, he imagined that that was the same expression his small face had worn.

He had had no one. Alfred was a pillar, a godsend that kept him from toppling over that edge, but he hadn't had anyone to _understand_. Not a single person to say, "I get it" and to really empathize with him.

If the owner of the circus couldn't attain custody of the girl, then maybe…

He shook his head and looked at the grandfather clock that led down to the cave and all of his costumes, tools, and machines. He couldn't protect the city every night and raise an eight-year-old child at the same time. It wouldn't be fair to the people that depended on him as Batman or to Rachel who needed someone who could be there for her.

Bruce Wayne moved his eyes back to the newspaper, to the front-page photograph of a blood-soaked child with a blank face and teary, traumatized eyes. He stared for a long moment and sighed.

_Maybe_ …

* * *

Ms. Reid told Rachel that she was working on enrolling her in school, but it was hard because they didn't know a lot about her. She didn't help much – she was still hoping that she could go back to Pop Haly, she didn't want to stay in the rundown house with kids she didn't know.

Rachel had just walked away from the adult and stomped into the kitchen. Why couldn't she just go home?

"Stupid rules. Stupid…"

The girl didn't yell like she really wanted to. She mumbled while she grabbed the fruity cereal and a bowl, and slammed all the cabinets and a drawer to grab her spoon. She even slammed the refrigerator when she got the milk out. It was expired by a day, but when she sniffed it, she thought it smelled fine.

_Stupid Zucco_ , she thought with hate burning in her chest.

She started to pour the milk over her breakfast when she saw someone move through the doorway out of the corner of her eye. It was easy to tell that they were tall, so she figured it had to be Ms. Reid.

"What?" She asked with a sharp voice.

"I'm looking for Rachel Grayson."

It was a man's deep voice. He sounded calm and not very happy at the same time, and when she turned around, she saw he was a lot taller than Ms. Reid. Dressed nicer, too.

The suit he was wearing looked expensive. His hair was nice and neat, the way that mama had always wanted Rachel's hair to be. His face stood out, though. It was so serious when he should be happy to be clean and in good clothes.

"I'm Rachel Grayson."

"Bruce Wayne."

He stuck out his right hand with a smile, but he had what her dad called _hard eyes_. They were sharp and grey, like steel.

He seemed very familiar, and she got the feeling that she'd seen him somewhere before, but she figured it was just because of all the people that had talked to her since…

Finally, after a minute he dropped his hand and spoke up.

"How old are you, Rachel?"

**_This is an amalgamation of chapter two, with a sprinkle of unfinished chapter one. Sure the_ ** _splat, crunch_ **_thing is a good way to end, but there's a lot of world to build and with the name of the second chapter being Charity, I wanted it to begin with this scene of Rachel and Bruce properly meeting (their real first meeting was the circus). Don't be afraid to let me know if that's a stupid choice. _ ** **_Unfortunately,_ ** **_that's it for chapter two._ **

**_MOVING ON._ **

* * *

4.) Autonomy – freedom from external control or influence. Synonyms: independence, sovereignty.

* * *

Rachel goes out on her own after Bruce refuses to let her help, sneaking into the GCPD and getting the Grayson box in the evidence locker, takes one look at the wires and sees that they were tampered with/cut

_**[After a confrontation due to her sneaking out, Bruce allows Rachel to convince him]** _

Bruce was clearly skeptical, his eyebrows raised as he canted his head toward the training area.

"Show me what you've got. _Impress me_. Then we'll talk."

_**[She convinces him]** _

Robin's hair:

Side braid, with a headband keeping back fringe. Wears hair down with bangs as Rachel Grayson

Robin's original costume:

Her mask, along with a pair bright green gloves which Alfred had so intuitively added to her costume, covered her eyes with white lenses that were surprisingly easy to see through. Surrounding the lenses was a border of green cloth with points at the outer edge of each eye. Her clothes were of a simple design her mother had created. A leotard with short light green sleeves that were the same color as the bottom half of her costume and the pixie boots that adorned her feet. The torso was an alarming red with a yellow "R" stitched onto the right breast. Another addition that hadn't escaped her notice was the fact that there was now a bright yellow cape attached to her suit.

Batman's Safety System:

\- Status/Code Green = Safe, No Injuries

\- Status/Code Yellow = Unsure, Minimal Injuries

\- Status/Code Red = Unsafe, Major Injuries

A lack of status update counts as a Code Red

**_It should be pretty clear, but I'll spell it out anyway because that's who I am: there is no chapter three. At least, not in the revised Origins. That would be Refuge, the chapter in which Rachel discovers the secret of Bruce Wayne, and I can't get there if I've barely started their first interaction. One of the most important parts of the story, arguably THE most important, and I've barely got chapter one done - now it becomes clear why I'm doing things this way._ **

* * *

9.) Jealousy – the state or feeling of being jealous; feeling or showing envy of someone or their achievements or advantages. Synonyms: envy, resentment, mistrust.

* * *

Robin huffed for the millionth time that night, while Batman looked out at the museum with his binoculars and ignored her. She laid her arms on the ledge of the roof and leaned to give her feet a break.

"This is dumb," she muttered.

They had been at the stakeout thing for _hours_ , and nothing happened.

Zip. Squat. Nada.

"Patience, Robin."

The " _or you're going home_ _early_ " wasn't out loud, but she could still hear it.

"Yeah. Right. Patience."

The young vigilante laid her chin on her hands and almost let out another huge sigh. She didn't think that becoming Batman's partner would mean watching buildings all night. Couldn't they go back to beating up thugs?

She looked out at the buildings around the Gotham Museum, wondering when they would finally get back to the real crime fighting, when a shadow managed to catch her eye. It was subtle, maybe even just her imagination, but she followed her gut and tugged on Batman's cape.

"There," she pointed.

Her mentor turned to look at the area she was focused on, night vision binoculars never leaving his face.

"Grapnel hook ready, Robin."

"Alright!"

Her grin dropped when he shot her a glare in the middle of putting the binoculars away and getting out his grappling gun. The younger vigilante could tell she was close to being sent back home, so she got her grapple out fast without saying anything else.

_**I'm sure you can guess who it is, and I sure hope you can, because I haven't even gotten to her introduction in my notes. The closest I get is:** _

Robin slid down into the gallery on the wire that was already there. She was so excited her heart was pounding!

Batman was next to her seconds after her feet touched the marble floor, walking further into the big, dark room of artifacts. The air was cold, like it always seemed to be in museums, and she wondered if he had a thermal vision mode for his lenses - all her mask had was night vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a helluva lot of bulk to chapter eight, but there's more than this, I'll tell you that. Still, the next post will be another collection of chapter notes clustered together in a sloppy mess that will hopefully be coherent enough.
> 
> Maybe.


	7. A Taste of the (Real) World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody loves a clown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some really rough chapters in this chunk, and I don't just mean because they're disjointed nonsense. I'm attempting some dark scenes, and if any of the bits that you see bother you, you can't blame me now. Other than that warning [that I'll more than likely repeat], there's not a lot to say in preparation.
> 
> I hope you're in the mood for more scraps, because that's all you'll be getting. There's not a lot to the Joker chapter, which you'd think would be a snap, but instead it's a drag.

8.) Obsession – an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person's mind. Synonyms: fixation, mania, craze.

* * *

Almost as soon as she dropped in front of him, the goon started laughing. It didn't stop him from pulling a nine-millimeter from behind his back, but she blushed and glared at him.

"I can't believe this! I thought Gotham couldn't get any crazier."

He kept chuckling, cocking the gun and pointing it straight at her. Even with all Bruce's training, it was still hard to stand still when she knew what guns could do but she had to. If she moved before he fired, all that would do was give him time to aim at a weak spot.

"Almost as crazy as trying to unload a whole freighter of drugs in Batman's city."

Robin tried to make her voice like Batman's, really low and rough, but it didn't work because the man in the clown mask just doubled over. It was a good thing for her since he completely forgot about shooting her and had his arms over his belly, but it didn't mean she was happy about it.

"I bet Joey sent ya," he said in between big gasps. "Tryin' to fake me out or somethin'."

She glared at the criminal, but he didn't notice because he was still chuckling. He didn't notice her walk a few steps closer, either – or her leg right before it smashed into his head from the best roundhouse kick she'd done all night. It was a lot easier since he was still bent down, and when he slammed into the concrete he finally stopped laughing.

_**[After Batman and Robin get back to the** **Batmobile]**_

Robin let out a big sigh and flopped back in the passenger seat. Batman didn't say anything, and didn't even look at her.

"That's the tenth guy that's laughed and we've only been on patrol for three hours."

She glanced over at him, but he stared straight ahead and pushed a few buttons on the console. He never seemed to care about the laughing, but she sure did. It was embarrassing!

_**So there is a "deleted scene" where the Joker discovers the existence of Batman's new protégé through torturing the Joey that the man mentioned, and as a result is committing more crimes, coming out of hiding in a big way to attract the attention of the Dark Knight. Total honesty, I don't even know what kind of trap to have Joker set up to catch Robin. I just know that I want the trope-y Robin whumped by Joker scene SO BAD. I mentioned before that I wanted to write this like any book you'd pick up at your local Barnes & Noble, but for all my effort my fanfiction ways refused to be completely ignored. Little things here or there make the origins of these stories unavoidably clear, and spoiler alert, the sequel to this one is Apprentice. The premise is entirely based on the first season finale of Teen Titans - as far as I'm aware in the comics, the only people that Deathstroke takes under his wing are his own offspring - no other media has used the idea of Slade Wilson forcing Dick Grayson [or in this case, Rachel Grayson] into an apprenticeship since 2003. So here I am, posting weird, disjointed, rambling crap on the internet.** _

Bruce stared solemnly up at his large computer screen and refused to cringe at the image before him. Commissioner Gordon had just sent over a file on a recent case, and it wasn't pretty. The acts were gruesome, senseless, and distinct in their pattern. It wasn't a good idea to expose Robin to that type of mind so early on in the partnership. He felt bad enough that he let her into this life, he wouldn't jeopardize her any more than necessary.

There truly was no predicting him. No other known aliases, no permanent address, no close friends or relatives.

The Joker had gone on a spree through Gotham, headed right for him.

_**So obviously he benches her from patrol, to keep her safe from that level of sheer crazy.** _

Bruce grabbed her shoulders tightly. "Listen to me, Rachel. You're sitting this one out or there won't be a Robin."

"This isn't fair, Bruce!"

"It isn't about fair or not fair, there is no patrol until I say."

_**Aaand she doesn't listen to him at all.** _

" _Finally_! I was worried you weren't going to make it."

She didn't understand what he meant. Did he _want_ to get caught?

None of his thugs moved, which just made her more confused. All of the bad guys that she caught with Batman never wanted them to show up, and they were always trying to hurt them. She should've been fighting the men in clown masks by then, and all Joker wanted to do was talk to her like they were best friends.

"You're going back to Arkham, Joker!"

Robin tried her hardest to sound scary, like Batman, but they all just laughed at her. She threw three bird-a-rangs as hard as she could at the goons and they hit two. A man closer to her got two in the leg, and one in front of the clown got one in his arm.

"Feisty little thing, aren't you?"

**_And so some fighting happens, Robin loses, and now the Joker has her..._ **

The crazed clown held up an old looking wood bat and his manic grin grew. "Ironic, don't you think?"

She didn't say anything. Joker frowned, but it was only for a few seconds but the grin came back like it never left.

"Tonight, little bird brain, is _aaalll_ about earning some wings. I don't know how old you are, but I bet it's high and mighty time you got 'em. And as the very first person to ever dare fight crime beside the Bat, you've got to get your wings the same way he got his."

It was like he swung the bat in slow motion, and she felt sick even before it hit her arm. Robin really wanted to yell at how bad it hurt, but she just swallowed and tried to breathe so that the crazy man smiling at her wouldn't get to hear it.

He started talking again while he moved the bat from hand to hand and walked around her.

"I understand this may seem like a harsh way of welcoming you to the family, but it's the only way!"

He stopped and hit her in the back. All the air she had _whooshed_ out in a rush and she made scary, rattly sounds when she tried to suck in more. He was still going around and around, so she couldn't keep her eyes on him. She didn't know if that made it better or worse.

"The three of us really are a family, Robbie-poo. You have your batty daddy and your handsome Uncle J, and then you! The little prodigy of the group. I can definitely say that I never saw _you_ coming, but oh well. At least now I have someone more expressive to play with."

The bat slammed her stomach with a _thump_.

" _Oof_!"

"I just hope you realize that I'm not the one that's going to kill you, Robbie. It's Batsy's fault for putting you in harm's way. The streets of Gotham are no place for little girls like you, ya know."

She didn't say anything again, which made his frown come back. Joker pushed her on her back with one foot, then put it on her stomach. He leaned down on his leg and put his ear close to her mouth. Robin couldn't hardly breathe, but she managed to spit at him. It landed on his cheek – for the first in a while she smiled.

The Joker wasn't as happy. He didn't even look like a man anymore; he was so angry.

"You know, before _you_ came into the picture, it was simple. I would blow up something, maybe kill a person or two, and then he would show up. Now that you're here, you've gone and spoiled my game."

His voice got deeper and even scarier. " _My_ game, bird brain. I don't much appreciate that. I've been leaving little breadcrumbs all over Gotham for him to come and find me. It's not in him to ignore a chance to pummel me, so it's obvious that he didn't see them. He's getting slower, more tired. _Losing his edge_. And I can't have that."

Joker's cheery face came back so fast she wondered if he was more than one person in the same body. He was smiling again with a tighter grip on his bat. He raised it high above his head and Robin tensed. No matter how hard she tried to keep it in, she grunted and yelled when he beat the tar out of her.

He stopped after a long time and leaned on the bat to catch his breath.

"If Batsy really," _pant_ , "and I mean _really_ wanted to," _pant_ , "don't you think he would have crashed through that window already?"

Her brain couldn't think, and her chest burned every time she took a breath. The Joker started walking around her again, slower than before.

"He just hasn't been himself for a while. _Months_ really. It was like I was telling you before, he's losing his edge; getting soft. Some might say it's just his old age, but you and I both know that's not it. He's as spry as ever in my opinion. Still, he's slipping up, making mistakes he wouldn't have made before. Do you know what they call it?"

Robin just wheezed, but he didn't seem to care that she wasn't answering this time.

"They call it 'baby-brain', Robbie-poo. He's often late, exhausted, preoccupied with... _other_ things. Things that aren't worthy of his time! When I realized this, I decided to take action and get the old Bats back. The best way to get baby off the brain is to get rid of baby, little sidekick, and _you're_ the baby."

_**So some more whumping occurs, eventually a knife gets involved and Robin is cut, but before things can get deadly serious Batman swoops in and takes care of things. She's hurt badly enough that he takes her to Lesley Thompkins.** _

When she felt Batman's heavy hand on her shoulder, and the tiny squeeze he gave it, she finally let it out.

"It burns," she whimpered.

There were tears dripping off her chin and snot was coming out of her nose and blood was getting all over, but he was so calm while he carried her to the Batmobile.

"It burns, it burns. It hurts!"

She would normally be embarrassed at how much she cried, but she couldn't even try to stop while Bruce sped through the Gotham backstreets.

"Ow. _Ow_. It really burns!"

She pushed on the cuts to try and shove down the pain, but only managed to get her gloves all bloody. It hurt too much to pay attention so when the car stopped, she didn't know where they were, she just knew it wasn't home. Robin could see old brick buildings with boards over the windows and broken street lamps. Her door opened a few seconds before hands grabbed at her and she curled up to make herself smaller.

"Robin," Batman said in a really quiet voice.

 _I'm here, I'm going to help_ is what he really meant. She let him pick her up again even if she knew it would hurt. The little girl hid her face against his chest, so she didn't see where he walked to but it wasn't far from the Batmobile. There were stairs, and a door opened. Warm light came when it did, which made the bat on her mentor's chest easier to see.

"Dear _God_ , Bruce."

The woman's voice was quiet, but still angry.

"The lecture can wait, Leslie. At least until after she's seen to."

_**Of course Rachel survives, and to be perfectly honest the idea is she didn't have any major injuries anyway. Several pretty bad cuts that need cleaned and stitched, a LOT of bruises, and a fractured rib. She takes a month to heal while Bruce tries to figure out a way to keep her safer without taking Robin from her. She lets him know very clearly that she would just find a way to keep fighting crime on her own (which would only put her in more danger) so it forces him to be creative in finding a solution that everyone can agree on.** _

* * *

Batman's completely stoic face gave away nothing as he gently ushered Robin forward, towards the imposing figure with the sun behind her. She could see the smile on the giant woman's shadowed face.

"You'll be staying with Wonder Woman on Themyscira to train. She was planet side when you were on the station, so you haven't met. She's a colleague of mine."

Rachel shot her head up to look at her mentor. She felt panic clawing at her, closing her throat and making it difficult for her to do more than stare in shock at the man with his hand still on her shoulder.

The strangely dressed woman crouched down so that she was more at her level. The smile that had been barely visible with the lighting of the brilliant sun behind her shown with sparkling beauty now that the glare had lessened.

"Hello little sister. I promise that no harm will come to you while you're under the protection of Paradise Island."

_**Quick Side Note: What Batman is talking about is the chapter Legends, which is already written out in the Scrapyard Origins, but doesn't have a single line in my notes -_-'** _

_**Eventually he decides to take her to Themyscira, Wonder Woman's island, where she can be protected by the Amazons and trained by them as well. Nothing too Spartan-y, but I want to have realistic, flowing logic for why Rachel is skilled enough to attract the attention of the World's Greatest Tactician and one of the best assassins in the biz. If she's got her gymnastic and acrobatic skills, then the Batman's training on top of that, then Wonder Woman's training on top of THAT, she's one tough cookie.** _

_**The only concern is that I am complete dogshit at writing and this idea isn't translate. I'm especially frustrated by the fact that I can't write fight scenes to save my life, so how am I supposed to show the reader how bad ass all these characters are?** _

_**All this to say that Training is another short one with very little meat to it because most of the meat is fight scenes. The biggest portion not divided by side notes and question marks is actually from Bruce's point of view and touches on a VERY important topic that permeates the entirety of Origins and comes to fruition in Apprentice.** _

Bruce calmly walked over to one of the windows behind his desk, showing no outward sign of the worry he felt burning his chest. It had been so _quiet_ these past few days; like it was before Rachel came to live with him. And he refused to say or do anything about it, but there was a niggling fear in his gut that he would have to go back to such silence after having such life and vitality come back into his world. He had been forced, technically by himself, to realize how much the girl meant to him in such a short amount of time.

Alfred was freer with his feelings on the situation. The vigilante knew that his friend was disappointed at the decision to send Rachel off to a strange place, even if it was for her safety.

Bruce stared out of his study and felt the weight of the thick silence that enveloped everything. As he looked out to the barely visible silhouette of Gotham, he sighed.

"Yes, I rather miss the young mistress, too, Master Bruce."

He didn't bother turning to face his oldest friend and closest ally, but his words still brought a small smile to his lips.

"It's…still. I didn't realize how much energy she added."

The butler came a few steps behind him, his shoes muffled on the thick carpet. The near pitch blackness outside allowed him to see Alfred's reflection in the glass, with his sympathetic smile and warm eyes.

"Indeed, sir."

The moment was cut short when Bruce's eyes went back to the skyline and saw his symbol.

_"Bat Light? Bat Pager? I got it! Bat Signal!"_

Despite how long he'd gone through the processes on his own, he found part of him waiting for Rachel at the grandfather clock for several seconds before he opened the secret passage down to the cave, expecting her to somersault into the car.

On his drive to the precinct, there was only the rush of air outside and the low murmur of the police scanner instead of bright and excited chatter. It was fifteen minutes after the signal had gone up when Batman appeared in the shadows at the top of the GCPD.

"Commissioner."

The older man started, turning to face the dark corner of the rooftop that Batman had emerged from and sticking his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.

"Batman."

The Dark Knight came closer to Gordon and the signal, noticing immediately that he was lacking a file. It wasn't as if he needed one to debrief him, but combined with Jim's expression, it put him on guard. The older man clearly glanced around, looking.

"Where's the girl?"

"Robin isn't on patrol tonight."

"Well, this is about her."

Batman let out a small breath, knowing what the older man was going to say. He waited for a moment while Gordon took off his glasses and rubbed his face.

"She's a kid, Batman. I'm guessing seven or eight years old. She can't even sign a _permission slip_ , let alone fight full grown criminals with guns all night. With you, I…I get it. Probably not completely, but I think I understand. Things have actually started to get better with you around, believe it or not, and there are finally enough good cops for me to have a squad I trust. The girl, though…"

The vigilante listened to the arguments that he'd made against _himself_ ever since he let her join him in the crusade, but made more damning by Jim being the one to say them.

"Robin is a trained, competent fighter with her own mind, even if she is young. If she wasn't with me, she'd be out on her own going against much more dangerous criminals."

The Commissioner sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his coat pocket and cleaning his glasses. He was trying to hide his anger, but Bruce wasn't the World's Greatest Detective for finding the obvious. It sounded weak to say that he couldn't control a child, but he couldn't tell him the specifics. It wouldn't be very hard to figure out who she was, and who he was, if Gordon knew what drove Robin to fight crime.

"She's… _determined_. I've tried talking her out of it, but Robin wants to help."

"Put child locks on the fancy car, then, Batman! She's too young to know what's best for her."

Bruce's frown deepened. "No, she's too young to lie about what she needs. Jim, she _needs_ this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. That's all you get after such a long wait, and I'd feel sorry, but at this point you're displaying masochistic behaviors that free me of any culpability. Next up: Stuffy Boring Parties, Parts 1 & 2\. I can say that they both introduce things that pay off further down the road, so I guess there's that.
> 
> Well. See you at the next shit show.


	8. Cause, Parts One and Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are lasting r e p e r c u s s i o n s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do ya know, here we are again.
> 
> This time with an original character twist!
> 
> ...
> 
> Please don't leave - I promise it isn't a stupid self-insert one! It's just forcing in a trope that's a guilty pleasure of mine. Every single other character is pulled from the DCU, so I think I have a little leeway.

10.) Soirée- an evening party or gathering, typically in a private house, for conversation or music. Synonyms: gala, ball, festivity

* * *

Rachel glared at the room full of people in expensive clothes and sparkly jewelry. If this silly party wasn't happening, then Batman and Robin could go on patrol and do some _real_ good. All they wanted to do was throw money at everything to make it go away.

She crossed her arms and huffed, but Bruce nudged her shoulder in a _behave_ kind of way, so she uncrossed her arms and pretended to smile. It was a lot harder than she thought to keep it up, mostly because so many of the guests wanted to kiss up to her guardian.

_**[For example]** _

"Oh Brucie, I think it's just _so_ sweet that you took the poor thing in like this. You're such a big softie."

He smiled at the woman and put a hand on her shoulder. She took it as his way of saying _it doesn't matter_ , which made her feel only a little bit better. She really didn't fit in at all. A whole night like this might just make her go crazier than the Joker.

Why shouldn't she be able to get a little fresh air?

She was sure she could get out long enough to stretch her muscles and get back without any commotion, just as soon as she got away from Bruce.

_**So, of course some robbers show up just as she's getting to the secret entrance to the Batcave, which gives her the perfect opportunity to knock some heads without even leaving the Manor. She's careful to make sure no one knows that Robin is the one saving the day - knocking out the power, separating the burglars, and beating them** **up.**_

Elliot sighed. There wasn't a doubt his father was in the crush somewhere wooing a lonely debutante while his mother hit up the open bar. His brother was given the gift of staying home because of a "headache". He rolled his dark brown eyes and gave a quiet scoff as he leaned against the wall.

The youngest Harvey boy shook his head of sandy blond hair as he adjusted his bowtie. What a mess his family was. Though, he supposed they were no more screwed than any of the other clans here tonight. Hell, the host of this damn party had just recently adopted some orphaned street rat or something. As far as he could tell, the kid was cute. No doubt _Wayne_ thought so as well.

Elliot clenched his fists and sneered as he scanned the crowded ballroom.

_Every one of these bloated, egotistical upper crust socialites are sickening_ , he thought not for the first time.

His gaze stopped at the entrance of the grand room, where he spotted ten fire arm toting, Halloween mask wearing men just in time for gunshots and screams to interrupt the dull roar of conversation, laughter, and classical music.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome your new hosts!"

_**Well, would you look at that. It's a new character, and he's all my idea. That's not saying much for him, but let's dive into some backstory anyway. I've been obsessed with obsession for as long as I can remember - the idea of a person being completely consumed by their desire [not always sexual] for another person. Frollo from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, Slade from Teen Titans, Vlad Masters from Danny Phantom, and more; I get a real kick from those sorts of dynamics, so I figured I'd put it my story.** _

He was going to die. The barrel of the gun was between his eyes, and the robber didn't show any hesitation on his face.

_At least this is better than going home._

Elliot didn't bother to close his eyes, so he saw when a dark red, green, and yellow blur seemingly fell from the sky down onto his would-be murderer. It used the man's back almost like a springboard, forcing him to the ground before flipping away. He let go of his weapon to break his fall with his hands and gave a shout of surprise, barely landing far enough to the side to avoid crushing the youngest Harvey boy.

"Leave the kid alone, meathead! I'm _much_ more fun."

A girl. Once she finally stopped moving and spoke up in a light and playful voice, it was obvious. His wide eyes took her in. She had such dark black hair styled in a cute side braid, and her costume was like something a carnival worker might wear. The leotard was red on top and green on the bottom with a yellow belt full of pouches that matched the (black and?) yellow cape that stopped at the top of her legs. The costume was small, like she was, showing off a lot of leg. She couldn't have been older than nine or ten, but she made his heart stutter with her confident grin.

"Aw, done already tough guy?"

The older man groaned in what sounded like a combination of pain and outrage as he got up, fumbling for his gun. What he didn't realize was that it had fallen closer to her than him, and she calmly walked the few steps it took to reach it. The speed that she took it apart should have been documented as the world record, and it was nearly how fast she reached into one of the compartments on her belt to pull out a short metal bar, somehow make it extend to only a foot shorter than herself, and whack the still disoriented criminal on the side of his head.

"What a letdown," she muttered.

She quickly glanced over to Elliot, and her expression had changed from self-assured to concerned and gentle.

"Are you alright?"

"Perfect," he breathed. He wasn't talking about himself, but apparently, she took it that way, because she smiled again.

"Good. That was a close one."

The wonderful girl extended her hand and he reached for it like it was his only lifeline in a stormy sea.

He could tell her eyebrows were raised behind the black domino mask she wore as she pulled him up with ease.

"Maybe a bit less than perfect, yeah? Don't worry, we'll get you back to the others in no time. The police are already here, so you'll be safe."

"No!"

Now the hidden brows were drawn in, and her plump little mouth parted.

"W-wait. I…I need a few minutes. Will you wait with me?"

"Sure. There's a long way around to the ballroom. Some walking might help get the shakes out of your legs."

He hadn't let go of her hand, but Elliot doubted she noticed, because now she used the connection to lead them across the large room to an opposite set of ornate oak doors. When they reached them, she finally wriggled her hand from his hold to open one. The hallway was long and moderately lit by wall sconces that looked like they had been put there when the house was built, with expensive artwork and vases lining it on pedestals and stands.

It looked like something from Versailles, out of place even for someone with as much money as Wayne. As they walked, something occurred to him.

"How did you know about this?"

The costumed girl was still in front of him, so he couldn't quite see her face, but her tone was hesitant.

"I found it while I was taking out the bad guys."

"Convenient."

Her head turned to give him a profile of her right side. She was smirking.

"Something like that. What's your name?"

Now it was Elliot's turn to raise his golden eyebrows. What a quick change of subject. He'd take it though. If he was hearing her voice, everything was okay.

"Elliot. Elliot Harvey."

She turned back to face the direction they were headed before answering.

"Robin. Just Robin."

It was perfect for her. She was delicate (at least in features), like a bird. He doubted she would use her real name if she went as far as putting on a mask to hide her identity, but he found he didn't care about that. He liked Robin better than any other name she could have given him.

"Lovely."

Robin stopped at his whisper, turning this time to fully face him.

"To meet you."

Her cute little nose wrinkled. "You too?"

They stood, paused like that, for a moment before she cleared her throat.

"Only a few more minutes. Like, two? And then we'll be at the main ballroom."

_Too soon!_

His mind rebelled. He opened his mouth, about to say something, _anything_ to make their time longer, but he remembered how odd he'd already been. Elliot had an idea that Robin wouldn't want to stay with him, at least with the Harvey family situation being what it was. Though, if his father had taught him anything of worth, it was that everyone fell under the sway of money – _especially_ women.

"I actually live near Wayne. Well, as near as anyone can when he has the mansion at the top. Mine looks somewhat similar. In fact, there's even an arcade about the size of that extra room we were in."

"…That sounds cool."

It didn't work. Partially his pathetic attempt, he was sure.

Robin didn't sound altogether interested, mostly focused on looking at the walls on either side of them. He finally noticed that the rare artifacts had changed into doors spaced periodically between sconces and pedestals. They must be coming up on their door, and Robin was making sure they didn't miss it. Perhaps he could be enough of a distraction that they passed it?

"How long have you been saving people?"

That question did make Robin still in her search.

"About a year, I guess. Kinda weird to think about."

Robin put her gloved hands on her hips. "Huh."

Then Robin shook it off and kept going, ratcheting up Elliot's need to keep talking – to stay here in this moment. The happiest moment of his life.

"Why?"

Robin was distracted again, slowing down even more. They were very close to their door, he could tell.

"Why what?"

It was muttered, and he got the sense that Robin was barely listening anymore.

"Why do you save people?"

"Who wouldn't?"

That was all the answer he got as Robin walked to the left and tapped at the air in front of a less intricate and heavy door, but still polished and carved with simple designs.

"Found it. It's probably for the best if I don't go in with you, I'm pretty sure I'd be arrested."

Taking the steps toward Robin and that door was like walking toward the electric chair. These were his last seconds with Robin, and if he was honest with himself, their time together had been brief. It felt like a dream.

Just before he reached for the delicate crystal handle, Robin started to back away. There was that smile on her face – confident and mischievous.

"One last thing: if you wouldn't mind _not_ telling anyone about our little meet-up? I tend to keep a low profile."

He took in everything – the costume, the delicate features, _her._

"I'll take it to my grave."

Robin giggled, and like that she managed to melt into the shadows of the hallway. Elliot was alone.

**_... Might've gone a little overboard, but who'll notice, right?_ **

**_For added context, Elliot Harvey is the youngest son of a philandering man with an underwhelming record in finance and an alcoholic mother who came from good people; an entire family of medical professionals. Home life certainly isn't great, and he latches onto Robin quickly (obviously), but he also doesn't reappear until chapter 26. There's a delayed repercussion to their meeting, and the idea is that Elliot, Rachel, and the reader don't realize that until they get there. Unfortunately for everyone reading it this way that small surprise is spoiled, but my story, my account, my rules._ **

"You did well tonight."

Rachel felt her face heat up, even if Bruce was giving her a compliment.

_He knew_.

She smiled, but it was more nervous than happy. "So I'm not – "

"You're washing the Batmobile for two weeks."

"But…!"

"It could've been longer, but you did well tonight."

* * *

11.) Successor – a person or thing that succeeds another. Synonyms: heir, inheritor, next-in-line.

* * *

"Another boring party? But Bruce!" Rachel whined as Alfred readied her dress for the evening.

He shot her a quelling look as he fiddled with his black bowtie and adjusted his tight-fitting jacket. He knew she was just tired from all the recent events, but it wasn't as if he was doing this because he _liked_ these torturous social soirées.

He had to make sure the public was kept placated when it came to the gossip columns and his social life. Batman had to be the _last_ thing the papers and his fellow billionaires associated with the clumsy, airheaded, womanizing Bruce Wayne. It turned his gut, but if it took the degradation of his civilian persona to keep Gotham's Dark Knight patrolling the streets then he'd do whatever necessary. The only thing he regretted was forcing Rachel to go along with it. Somehow, though, he doubted she would be able to act like a spoiled rich girl even halfway convincingly. She would still have to make sure to bite her tongue when it came to certain conversation topics. God knew the upper crust of the city had a strange obsession with Batman – whether hate or intrigue.

"Come, Miss Rachel. Time to prepare for the gala."

_**This chapter is the foreshadowing of Rachel's eventual fate, as well as an event with lasting effects. Guess what else it is.** _

_**Barely fucking worked on.** _

_**I know I keep saying that for all these different chapters, but you have to understand that the further into the notes we get, all of a sudden there is page upon page of material for each chapter. The early ones, not so much.** _

The party was going smoothly, already several hours in and there had yet to be any attempted robberies or rowdy guests. Bruce gave a bland smile toward a tall blonde as she gave him some impressive bedroom eyes, but his eyes quickly flitted around the room; assessing.

They stopped when he spotted a familiar face, one he'd thought he'd never see again.

He shoved down the instinct to grit his teeth certain that if he did, they would end up cracked. The regally dressed man had already spotted him, and there was no avoiding exchanging words from the determined gleam in his green eyes.

Bruce tensed at the sight of Ra's al Ghul coming toward him and Rachel. He tried to make his expression even, but he doubted he hid much of his animosity from the ancient assassin or any onlooker who passed by. Of course, the Demon seemed absolutely thrilled at the turn of events.

"Ah, Detective, how wonderful to finally see you again after so long. I'm sure Talia will be delighted."

"Bruce?"

The tone used was obviously worried, and immediately the billionaire's attention went to the girl beside him. Her eyes were confused but her posture showed she was on guard. He made a subtle move to shield her with his larger frame, regretting it when the obvious disinterest that had been on the other man's face at the young girl faded at his action.

"No need to be so wary. I'm not so foolish as to act now."

"I would hope you wouldn't be so foolish as to act _at all_."

The low growl that Bruce spoke with was something that the average thug would piss themselves from as soon as they heard it. And yet, here Ra's stood, completely at ease and smiling.

"Now, now Detective. She's just a common girl, no need to get into an altercation."

"Hey!"

He had to suppress a smile at Rachel's indignant tone and rather impressive scowl. Ra's simply raised an elegant brow before facing Bruce again.

"I assume you've given no thought to my proposition; which I feel I must remind you is always open."

"No need, the answer is always the same."

Anger was clear on his face for a minute before he answered.

"I'd heard you'd become a hypocrite, but to see it with my own eyes just cements it. You refuse to view things from my perspective, but here you indoctrinate this child to yours."

"You can't – "

"Silence, child!"

His voice was severe as he snapped at her, causing Bruce to position her even more behind him.

"At least teach the ward manners, Detective."

"What exactly are you even doing here, Ra's? I doubt you've come out of whatever hole you were in just to check in and reprimand me."

"Ah, yes. I've some… _business_ to attend to in this cesspool of a city and heard of your little party. I thought it would prove entertaining for the moment."

While Bruce's mind went into overdrive on what the old man could have planned, he made sure to put his hand on Rachel's back and steer her away, the same direction he was walking.

"Your moment is up, Ra's. Leave. _Now_."

He made sure with several subtle glances that the villain didn't linger, feeling his ward's eyes on him the whole time.

"Who was that man, Bruce?"

He didn't respond for a moment. The billionaire's focus was still on the encounter that he was sure meant he was far from finished with Al Ghul.

"Bruce?"

"…Old acquaintance."

He finally looked down at his ward. She was looking up at him with a clearly concerned expression that caused him to give her a miniscule smile.

"Maybe we can cut the party short."

_**I may or may not be missing a plan, but the general idea is that through his network Ra's has discovered Bruce's new weakness and intends to exploit it to the best of his ability. It works, and they end up at League of Shadow HQ.** _

Bruce refused to show any emotion to Ra's or Talia as Rachel continued to do her stretches unaware of the assassin casually twirling a dagger on the other side of her door.

"I'm not fond of harming children, Detective, but your continued and foolish stubbornness makes one wonder just what it takes to get through to you."

The other al Ghul simply stared at him as her father calmly threw his threat. It was one of the most difficult moments of his life to not give in and beat Ra's senseless for his smug air while he blackmailed the vigilante with his own ward's life. He didn't even clench his fists.

"If you kill her, you must know you lose any chance of having me join you."

**_So the Demon's Head makes Batman an offer he can't refuse: Rachel will leave the stronghold and arrive back at Wayne Manor unscathed only as long as Bruce pledges undying fealty to Ra's and the League, taking his place as eventual leader._ **

"It is past time for the child to be gone."

It was hard to watch the heartbreak in her expression as she looked from Ra's to him and back again.

"Why can't he leave? Why can't I stay with him?"

"Little girl, the simple fact is that there is none so suitable to be my successor as your mentor. And while he seems to hold some sort of affinity for you, _I_ do not. Therefore, you are easily disposable."

Batman growled. "Harm her in any way and you forever lose any hope of me leading the League, Ra's. I've agreed for one reason and one reason only: your word that Rachel walks away unscathed."

His enemy sighed. "Ah yes, your concern is endearing as ever. I am a man of my word, Detective. Fear not."

He could see the worry and confusion on her face and had to force himself not to go back on his promise.

"I'm not leaving you, Bruce. You can't make me – "

She was cut off by the guards grabbing her, pulling her towards the door when Ra's gave a small nod.

"Let go!"

He made an enraged sound in his throat, and started to go to Rachel, but the ancient man stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"This had to happen. You must understand that."

Batman turned to the Demon with rage in his eyes.

"She has no one. _No one_. She could just – "

"No."

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched so hard he was sure something would break. He shouldn't have expected any sort of sympathy from the head of a league of assassins, but he had thought that having him as an heir would be enough of a reason to give him some leeway.

Bruce flinched before he could stop it at the sound of her shouts to be free.

"You'll soon forget about the child. For now, we've work to do."

He didn't say a word as he followed the ancient man out of the grand office, biding his time. He'd find a way out of this, even if it took him _years_.

_**For those that didn't catch the loophole there, Robin gets the guards to rough her up and that breaks the deal. It seems like a flimsy thing, but there's a way to buff it up a bit.** _

_**I think.** _

To say that it was hard to surprise Bruce Wayne was an understatement. He'd lived in Gotham for a _long_ time now and wasn't so new to vigilantism in the city. It dredged up every type of kook and crook imaginable. Once you'd fought a crocodile man a dozen times you learn to expect the unexpected.

When Rachel crashed into the room where he and Ra's were sparring, he felt very surprised. A split lip and a bruised cheek were obvious on her face, and there were the sounds of dozens of running feet coming to catch up with her. She was breathing hard and staring down the old Demon with stone cold determination.

"You… _pant_ …broke your… _pant_ …promise."

Even Al Ghul seemed completely lost. It was only for a minute, but Bruce relished that someone had finally one upped him.

"You dare question my word?"

All she did was point to her face, smirking when he finally realized. The younger man let the corner of his mouth lift in his own small smirk.

"I wanna know your definition of _unscathed_. I looked it up in the dictionary when you gave me some free time, and I'm pretty sure this doesn't count."

Her words made for a furious looking assassin, while behind Rachel a crowd of ninjas poured into the room at the doorway. Whether or not she'd planned this, Ra's now had two options: let Bruce go, and keep his word, or break the promise in front of his devout followers.

It seemed the almighty Demon's Head didn't like being pushed into a corner. After several minutes of him not saying a word, the Dark Knight took the decision out of the old man's hands by stepping toward Rachel with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts one and two of Effect will be out much later, and spread out into different stories. Savior is fifteen chapters away and the next Ra's appearance is in Apprentice, so for now all we have to look forward to is Poison Ivy and one of if not the darkest thing I've ever written: Violate.


	9. Change is Natural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you truly love nature, you will find beauty everywhere.
> 
> \- Vincent van Gogh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the first time, there'll only be one chapter at a time. This is less to do with the size of the notes and more to do with subject matter.
> 
> First up is Temptress, which has to do with everyone's favorite eco-terrorist. In Batman: Solo, pretty much every chapter is about these villains being created and Batman facing them for the first time, but in Origins, not every rogue is given their own chapter and first meetings happen in between chapters.
> 
> All of which doesn't really matter for this chapter, because this is Robin's first Poison Ivy encounter in her very own chapter.

Rachel didn't really understand why her guardian was on a stage at the front of the room with nine other men, or why all the women at the charity ball were so happy about it. Bruce had told her that this was going to be a party for raising money, and that it was to help poor families who couldn't afford Thanksgiving. It seemed more like a regular party just for fun to her.

She'd thought so the second that Alfred had stopped in front of the Iceberg Lounge. Only people she'd seen at Bruce's galas got out of the fancy, expensive cars pulling up, and none of them thought that hungry people were very serious if their smiles and laughs were anything to go by.

The place was too cold, even with the brown cashmere shawl she'd brought. All of the adults that came up to them when they walked through the lounge only wanted to talk to Bruce, and they completely ignored her. There'd been boring music and talking for a long time, but then the lights went off. For a minute there was only the candlelight from all the tables, before a spotlight came on and everyone looked at the small stage across from the entrance.

A beautiful woman in a sparkling green dress was on stage, with long green gloves that went past her elbows.

_**Trust me, it's not Ivy.** _ _**I know, I know. Green. But I swear this is NOT Ivy, I'm just a disgustingly thematic person.** _

_**I saw an opportunity, and I seized it.** _

_**In other news, this gala party thing is one of those date auctions where the men are bid on and whoever wins gets the man for one date, or for a certain amount of hours. It's embarrassing, but that's about it for the setup. The next bit I have is a VERY short snippet of the later fight between Ivy and the Dynamic Duo.** _

**Extra Note: A quick description of our villainess for the chapter - large breasted and wide hips [representative of the lush lure of nature...no, seriously; for real it ties into the rest], long red hair [all the way to her knees]; unnaturally bright green irises [representative of the idea that the eyes are the window to the soul, and nature has subtle ways of distinguishing what's venomous and what's not]; green lips [representative of the poison,** _obviously_ **, but also the use of her words and promises to poison a man's mind if she needs him for something]; wearing a minimalistic leotard made of vines, moss, leaves, and flower petals [representative of her split from civilization and mankind, along with her uncut hair]**

The tree roots were thin, but they were strong. Poison Ivy used her powers to wrap them around Robin’s legs and up to her shoulders, and she didn’t leave any wiggle room for the vigilante to get to the bird-a-rangs in her belt.

“Poor girl. Of course _he_ would use you to get closer, but any enemy of Nature is an enemy of mine.”

The woman walked closer slowly, and after every step vines grew in the footprints. The more they did, the more scary they started to look, getting as wide as Robin and sprouting thorns bigger than a KA-BAR. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the enemy, but she knew that her mentor was still dealing with the crowd of mind-controlled men from the sounds not too far off.

“I’m down with nature, it’s _you_ that’s the problem.”

Ivy had finally reached her, and she wrapped the soft fingers of one hand around the back of her neck, and used the other to grip her chin so tight it hurt.

“Of course a traitorous sympathizer like you would think that. Your little head is filled with lies the Men have put there.”

Robin’s eyes went so wide it hurt when the woman bent down to her height and planted her green lips right on the girl’s. The tingle that started a second after the kiss hurt, like sharp pins poking more and more of her face the longer that the villainess tightly held her there. By the time it finally ended, it was in her throat and making it harder and harder to breathe.

Ivy had an evil smile on her face while she unwrapped the roots and watched Robin fall to the ground on her side, grabbing her neck.

“I suppose I should have mentioned earlier…”

The young vigilante sucked in wheezy, shallow breaths desperately as she slowly straightened.

“I’m poison.” She whispered.

It took a second, but she whispered back.

“…No…duh…lady.”

Even though all the sounds were muffled, Robin could still hear Batman fighting off the zombie men in the background of her scary raspy breathing.

“Looks like your precious Batman won’t be in time to save you. Any last words I might give him?”

“…Your breath…smells like…manure.”

The smile that had been on her face the whole time turned into a frown, and she looked like she wanted to stab Robin so she didn’t have to wait for her to stop breathing.

Ivy moved her hand to make one of the big vines surrounding her come closer, and she knew that just _one_ of the thick thorns covering it would be enough to rip her apart. Since she could hardly breathe, there was no way she could move.

The villainess closed her fist when the killer plants were less than a foot from her. Robin didn’t have to take long to figure out that meant the end. She couldn’t hear anything other than her rattling inhales and wheezy exhales anymore, and she definitely didn’t want to die looking at Poison Ivy’s smug face, so she closed her eyes and tensed.

And she waited.

Half a minute passed by, and the young vigilante only let out a few more raspy breaths. No giant vines squeezing her until she popped. No humungous thorns tearing her to shreds. She managed to open her eyes halfway, which was enough to see the blurry green outline was too busy fighting the blurry black outline to kill her.

_He’s giving you time, spaz._

Robin managed to get herself onto her back, but it was hard enough to make her sweat. She dragged her hand down to her belt, trying to get the pouch with the anti-toxin open while her fingers felt tingly and numb.

There was barely any air hissing in and out of her mouth when she finally managed to get the syringe, and she was too weak to sit up and inject herself the way that Batman taught her.

_**That's it, scene's over. I have no idea in the WORLD how I'm going to begin it, or how it'll end. But I'm not a mess, no, I'm very proud of how put together everything I've written is - yes, yes indeed.** _

_**But there is just a little bit more at the end of this chapter, and it's a happy one. Most chapter endings in Origins, while not always wrapped up and clean, have high notes; silver linings that give the uplifting feeling that things would still be alright. Not really something I intentionally did, but in going over my writing more times a day than I used to, I've started to notice these accidental patterns. It also works because Apprentice is all about showing when nothing will be alright, and all the memories that the characters have come from Origins. As a reader, you would be going through all these moments of development and the depth of Bruce and Rachel's relationship would seem real so when the emotional gut punches that are in the next story hit, they hit hard. Not in some cheap manipulation, but because the characters are authentic enough to empathize with to the point that the reader feels their pain.** _

_**With all that said, at the end, Bruce and Rachel visit the Kents' Farm (though this part is in bits and pieces).** _

It only took a few days to start feeling copacetic again. Deep breaths still stung, but the green lines around her mouth were gone and her skin looked like it actually belonged to someone with a pulse. Once she was healthy enough to get out of her room, she spent most of her time outside in the garden. The fresh air felt good, and the sun kept her warm when the cold November wind blew.

The girl was humming while she walked out to the wood bench she always sat at. Rachel’s tennis shoes scraped to a stop on the stone path got quiet when saw Bruce standing in front of it. She stared up at him and wondered why he was there.

Maybe he just wanted to stay with her for a little while she was out of the Manor and make sure that nothing bad happened.

Maybe he was there to tell her that it was too soon for her to be outside and order her to go back to bed.

“Alfred says you’ve been out here quite a bit recently.”

Rachel toed at one of the rocks and stuck her hands in her jean jacket pockets.

“I like it. Helps me feel better.”

He was slow when he nodded, like he was working something through in his head at the same time.

“It may not smell like it, but even Wayne Manor isn’t free from Gotham’s pollution.”

She noticed that they both looked at the smoggy skyline after he said that, but even when Rachel turned her head to Bruce, he kept looking at the endless sky and ocean.

“Things are going smoothly at the office, so I’ve taken some time off, and if you would like we can go somewhere with fresher air.”

_**[So Bruce takes her to Kansas to visit Superman]** _

Rachel looked up at the pure blue sky even though it hurt her eyes, and took a deep breath of the clean air. Mister and Missus Kent’s farm was so open and free, not at all like the city. It wasn’t cold in the sunshine, but the wind was chilly which meant that Bruce had her wearing three layers and her thickest jeans.

“Don’t wander too far, this isn’t like Gotham. There are wolves and coyotes around here.”

He said it in his usual calm voice, sticking his hands in his pea coat pockets with his eyes focused on the crop fields and tall grass. Her eyes went wide and she looked around the big, open space.

_Wolves?_

“You made it!”

Rachel jolted at Mister Kent’s happy shout from the porch, but Bruce just raised his eyebrows in a _you say that like we wouldn’t_ way.

“Ma and Pa are in the kitchen, come on in.”

_**[She meets Krypto, the NOT Super Dog because in this universe he's a normal white lab]** _

“Careful, Rachel. You’ll spoil him!”

The white Lab wagged his tail harder, licking her cheek while she squealed. He almost knocked her off her down, but she managed to keep kneeling and scratching the dog.

Mister Kent laughed behind her but she could still hear Bruce’s sigh. Krypto stopped his dog kisses to drop down on the grass and roll over to show his belly. A breeze blew and Rachel took a deep breath of the fresh country air, petting through the wiry fur on the dog’s chest. She didn’t have to look to know that it was her mentor walking up to her from the Kents’, but when he moved in front of her she still raised her head. There wasn’t much of a point – there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the bright sun and pure blue hurt her eyes after a few seconds of squinting.

“Time to go already?”

“Not quite. John and Martha have certain hospitality rules – but you do need to wash up for lunch.”

She gave Krypto some last scratches before she stood up. “Hospitality?”

_**[There's a snippet of her interacting with Clark, which will come up later]** _

“So you can fly?”

Clark smiled back at her when she asked, which made her hopeful that he would say yes to her idea.

“Sure can, kiddo. You can come up with me anytime, as long as Bruce says it’s alright.”

Rachel felt her grin get even bigger. “Does that mean we can jump on the clouds?”

He chuckled and she felt sure he was digging the idea.

“Well, I’m sure sorry Rachel, but clouds aren’t…”

“Solid?”

Clark nodded while her face fell.

“Yeah, I know Mister Kent. I just thought since you’ve got those nifty powers, we could pretend.”

He raised his brows and put his hands on his hips.

“That is a great idea, young lady. How about I come with you to tell Bruce all about it.”

_**[And at the very end, Rachel and Bruce have a cute little back and forth that will, once again, come up later]** _

Rachel turned to him with her eyes as big as she could get them.

“Can we get a dog?”

“No.”

“Please can we get a dog?”

“No.”

“Why not? I can take care of it!”

“No.”

“I’ll wash the Batmobile for a week. No – a _month_.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that it's understandable why it took so long for this one to come out, but considering how bare bones it is, probably not. I spent a lot of time trying to flesh out the segments that I had, but even I STILL don't know what the main conflict will be beyond "Ivy shows up for some reason" or how I'm going to introduce it sooooooo...
> 
> The next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long to post, but considering the next chapter is Violate, that's probably not a good thing. If YOU want to be weirded out to the point of disgust tune in next time!
> 
> Same shit story, same shit author!

**Author's Note:**

> My notes. That's what this really is: my fragmented recounting of a single character's life, complete with intermittent author commentary. I'm honestly, genuinely, really scared to post this for several reasons, but I'm doing it anyway. The updates will be as sporadic and chaotic as my brain, so I'm sorry in advance.


End file.
